


The Intruder

by Hollyoakhill



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Blood and Violence, Canon Compliant, Dismemberment, Gen, Horror, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt/Comfort, Obi-Wan Needs a Nap, Original Character Death(s), Please don’t look at maps of an actual venator star destroyer I’m making things up as I go, Survival Horror, Suspense, Whump, clones can should and will swear like sailors, i will die on this hill, just a lot of clones being brotherly assholes to each other, though i may tweak it here and there for Plot Reasons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28478583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollyoakhill/pseuds/Hollyoakhill
Summary: When a vicious attack from a strange, indestructible monster traps them on a derelict star destroyer, a young clone trooper fresh from Kamino join forces with Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi to find a way to escape.
Comments: 108
Kudos: 235
Collections: Obi wan whump





	1. The Shiny

**Author's Note:**

> What do you get when you play dead space, resident evil 3, and republic commando within weeks of each other? This monstrosity!
> 
> This was started back in May as a writing exercise and forgotten about until I recently dug it up from my files and found out I actually really care about these characters I've made. I thought I'd share them with you and this little adventure I've created. I currently have a weekly/bi-weekly schedule planned for updates. It's a bit of a slow build, but I hope you'll enjoy the payoff!
> 
> Enjoy!

Stepping into the hangar deck, CT-5633 realized immediately he stood out like a sore thumb. 

Straightening his back and taking a deep breath, he marched down the long hall, ignoring the looks from the older, hardened troopers. His armor was a clean, pristine white in a sea of greens and dirt. Though Shinies being added into veteran units was far from a rare thing - troopers died all the time and needed to be replaced - he still disliked the looks of his older brothers as he walked past. They were all sitting close to each other as they prepped their gear for the next outing. He nodded politely to the mechanics who were idly working on their dropships and shuttles. The hangar smelled of oil and caf.

His young face certainly didn’t help. 

His features were softer, rounder - certainly not scarred and creased like the veterans he briskly paced by. He heard someone in the sea of troopers yell something about not allowing cadets in the hangar area. He flushed, but kept his head high and pushed through the crowded hangar. The Kaminoans warned him of ‘acclimatization issues’ with the older batchers, but he never thought it was going to be like this.

He put his helmet back on. 

The rule books didn’t prepare him for this. 

‘33 found his captain easily enough. The telltale red markings on his armor made him stand out in the myriad of white and greens that surrounded them. He was leaned against a stack of crates under a beat-up drop ship, barking orders while nursing a canned drink ‘33 had never seen before. His relaxed demeanor would have made him look unassuming if it wasn’t for an impressive display of scars across the bridge of his nose and down his cheek. Most notably, he saw a pair of symmetrical scars that ran from his brow, across his forehead, and landing on the side of his head, like the ears of a Vulptex. 

It didn’t take long before the captain’s eyes locked on him, and he called out loudly: “CT-5633, I’ve been waiting for you! Come here, kid,” he beckoned. 

‘33 cringed inwardly but marched forward with his shoulders squared. Just follow protocol. Don’t mess this up.

“CT-5633 reporting for duty, sir!” He saluted, probably a little louder than he needed to. He ignored the snickers and odd looks around him. 

“Relax, kid. This isn’t an inspection,” the captain grinned. “I just wanted to have a look at you.”

Both of them were silent for a moment. The captain raised his eyebrows in expectation before ‘33 realized he wanted to see his face. He apprehensively removed his helmet and watched as the Captain’s face broke into an enormous smile. 

“By Fett's blessed breeches, they weren’t kidding when they said we’d get a young one. You’re hardly older than your eighth term.”

“‘Ninth,” ‘33 corrected.

“Are they sending cadets to do a soldier’s work, now?” A dry voice came from his left and ‘33 nearly jumped. It was a scruffy clone who whizzed past him with the largest rifle he had ever seen. The clone’s hair was slightly longer than regulation, and his left eye was an impressive green, most likely a cybernetic implant. The newcomer patted the captain on the shoulder and stole his can, which the captain didn’t seem to mind. With one raised eyebrow, he didn’t break eye contact as he chugged the rest of the drink and crushed it in a single fist. “You got the chops for adult life, kid?”

“Sir, yes sir,” ‘33 saluted.

“What did I say about this not being an inspection, private? Relax, I’m getting a nervous breakdown just looking at you,” the captain chuckled and stepped forward. “I’m Kitfox, this one’s Pluto. When I heard they’re sending kids from Kamino with your special new training I had to see one for myself. We could use someone who’s up to date with all the latest training and strategies in our ranks here. I’m told you’re top of your class.”

“I'm honored, sir. It's true, sir.”

“What kind of training?” Pluto asked, only looking half as intrigued as the Kitfox, who seemed absolutely taken with him. He summoned two more cans from a crate behind him and tossed the other to Kitfox, who grabbed it out of the air without looking. He offered it to ‘33, who shook his head. Kitfox shrugged and cracked it open with a practiced motion and took a long sip. 

“Simulations, mostly. Virtual battles based on true encounters in the war so far, plus a larger focus on the philosophy and theory of warfare, sir,” ‘33 asserted.

“Simulations and theory? _Philosophy_? ‘They trying to replace actual, real experience? Sounds like a lot of bantha shit to me,” Pluto snorted, clearly unimpressed. “What's wrong with the real battle exercises?”

“Simulations are cheaper,” ‘33 said.

“Who says what about bantha shit?” Another voice came from behind. ‘33 turned and was met with the jovial face of a bald, smiling clone. His forehead was tattooed with six narrow marks, giving him an unnerving arachnid-like appearance. He carried a large satchel full of various mechanical parts that were nearly tumbling out of the opening. 

“The kid here thinks he’s got shit. Thinks books and holovids are gonna replace real experience,” Pluto said with a dismissive wave.

“That's not true,” Kitfox said, bumping the other clone in the shoulder with a friendly, but warning look. Pluto shut up, but he didn’t seem too bothered about the silent reprimand his superior just gave him. Disregarding the previous statement, Kitfox smiled again and pointed at the newcomer. “That’s Brash, the local heavyweight. He’s got a good brain for all things tech. If your gear ever flunks out, seek him out before you file any reports. We’ve got a clean equipment record thanks to him.”

He watched the new clone dump the heavy satchel on the crate with a loud thump. The crates creaked under the weight. 

“One day they’ll actually transfer me to R&D,” Brash wishfully mused, and accepted the canned drink that Pluto had fetched while ‘33 looked away. 

“Not while you’re carrying those guns, you’re not,” Pluto chuckled, lightly punching Brash’s very impressively toned arm muscles. “Your brawn is wasted on those tech twerps anyway.”

“Cursed with the strength of the gods,” Brash sighed dramatically, and chugged the drink, and flexed a bicep while doing so. “Don’t worry kid. We’ll show you what a soldier’s life really is like. Not whatever the fancy Kaminoans in their pretty lab coats think it is.”

“What we’re _trying_ to say...” Kitfox said, stressing each word giving ugly looks to his compatriots. “Is welcome to the squad.” 

He received two welcome’s with varying degrees of enthusiasm from the others. Introductions over, Brash then climbed up to work on the dropship that hung suspended above them, while Pluto retreated to a workbench in the corner and carefully placed his rifle onto a clean piece of fabric. 

“And you’ve come at the perfect time. Come with me, I wanna show you something.”

Grinning, Kitfox beckoned ‘33 to follow him and lead him around the tall crates, and a little further into the hangar. 

“Look there,” he nudged ‘33’s shoulders and pointed to the other end of the hangar. 

‘33 raised his head and dutifully followed the captain’s finger. Near the landing strip, slightly concealed behind crates and wandering troops, he saw what the captain had pointed to. A small passenger sized ship, painted red, stood out quite conspicuously from the army standard gear that filled the hangar. Though this is the first time he had seen one up close, there was no doubt what that was.

“A Jedi,” he said quietly. The captain nodded, a wide grin spreading on his scarred face.

“Not just anyone. You’re in luck, Shiny. Your first mission will be commanded by none other than General Obi-Wan Kenobi himself!” Kitfox proudly exclaimed.

“What,” ‘33 gasped, trying his best to contain the shock of nerves that struck through him at the mention of the legendary name. “You’re pulling my leg, Captain.”

“Oh, I would never do such a thing,” Kitfox mirthfully lied. “No, the order came in this morning. We’re moving from the Outer Rim come next cycle. Kenobi will be gathering his forces on the _Vindication_ in the meantime to prepare for the next operation. Word has it, we will be working with the 212th.”

“I heard the 501st will be on it as well. A huge hit on some Sep planet,” Pluto piped in from his workbench. He dutifully inspected the disassembled barrel of his blaster for dirt, even though it was squeaky clean already. 

“Seriously?” Brash injected from above, disbelief in his voice. He lowered himself from the dropship and didn’t bother cleaning up the oil and grime on his face. “Two and a half years in this war and I haven’t seen a sliver of neither Jedi nor central planets, and a Shiny joins us for three days and you get it all.”

“Lucky you,” Kitfox grinned with a light punch to ‘33’s shoulder. 

“Yeah,” ‘33 smiled nervously. 

If a Jedi General was joining forces with them, it meant something seriously huge was going to go down. The other clones’ excitement over this development was palpable across the room. Their voices were more hushed, carefully listening for the next orders, the loudest sounds being audible clicks and cracks of weapons getting cleaned and inspected. The mechanics were all getting the starships ready for deployment, the pilots hardly paying attention to their card games as they eagerly awaited their next operation. 

The soldier's blood in him sang. This is what he was born and bred for. But his mind was not so moved. 

His apprehension wasn’t lost on the others. 

‘’What’s that somber look on your face for, huh? You afraid of some action?’’

‘’You’re not?’’ ‘33 asked. 

His honesty seemed to catch them off guard for a sec before they all laughed. Kitfox folded his arms with a playful grin. 

“Oh come on, Sunshine. It will be fine!”, he reassured him. 

“I’ll make sure that when you soil your breeches, the General won’t be there to see it,” Pluto quipped and nodded to the bright red starship in the back of the hangar. He was rewarded with a burst of hearty laughter from the others. ‘33 felt himself flush.

“Very funny,” ‘33 deadpanned. “And my name is not Sunshine. Call me CT-5633.”

The other clone troopers immediately stopped laughing. They all shared a look before their eyes lit up with playful mirth. It filled him with a deep sense of dread. They obviously knew something he didn’t. 

“Oh, but you’re a Shiny. And you’re about as sunny as a Corellian headlight. That makes you Sunshine to me,” Pluto said, arms crossed. 

‘33 looked over at Kitfox in mild horror, to which the captain only shrugged. He at least had the heart to look a little apologetic, but the sly grin on his face destroyed any hopes of getting the captain’s sympathy. 

“Sorry, Sunshine. Not sure what they told you in your special extra-fancy Kamino class, but any unnamed troopers going into the GAR are fair game. Aaand… it seems the damage is already done.”

‘33 sputtered in protest, but it seemed his clone brethren had already made up their minds. Brash chuckled and patted his shoulder with his enormous mitten-like hands. Had he not worn armor, he would have had the breath knocked out of him. “You should be happy it was us, or else someone would’ve called you something stupid like Snail, or Grass, or Kitty, or…”

“Brash,” Pluto finished. Brash sent him a red hot stare, which was met with the smaller man’s feigned ignorance. 

‘’Come on, admit it. It's a good name. You’ll come around to it,’’ Kitfox said. 

“I like Sunshine. I also like oxymorons,” Pluto stated plainly. 

“What the fuck is an oxymoron?” Brash said. 

“I’m looking at one right now,” Pluto replied with a pointed glance at Brash, with a small glint of humor on the corner of his lips. 

“Are you asking for the wrench? Because it seems to me you’re asking for the wrench.”

“Can the hijinx, both of you. The Jedi is coming our way,” Kitfox suddenly commanded, professional coolness entering his voice. 

The chatter ceased immediately. The four troopers stood on parade as General Kenobi passed them by. The Jedi was in deep conversation with the Admiral, a plump, older man by the name of Yeltsin. Neither of the CO’s gave them much notice, but Kenobi sent them a polite nod as he passed by. The unexpected eye contact surprised him, and he stiffened before averting his eyes with a clumsy salute. Kenobi simply grinned and kept talking with the Admiral like he was on a daily stroll. 

Neither of the clones relaxed before the Jedi and Admiral were both well out of view. 

“Oh, you got special treatment, rookie,” Pluto whistled and cocked his reassembled blaster with a resounding clack. 

“I think he likes you,” Kitfox smiled and leaned back on his crate with a lazy stretch.

“See, even the legendary General can’t help but gaze at the Sunshine,” Brash joked in a singsong voice. 

“Oh, shut the hell up, all of you,” ‘33 groaned, and followed the captain back to their little corner in the hangar. Cussing at higher-ranked soldiers would have landed him on latrine duty on Kamino, but to his surprise, they just laughed as they continued with their work. He reluctantly accepted one of the canned drinks, something he was told was called _beer_. It tasted like dirt. 

The rule books didn’t prepare him for any of this.


	2. Rendezvous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't find a clean chapter break so this one got pretty long. Pacing is hard hahah. Still, I hope you enjoy it!

CT-5633 was just another face in a sea of identical soldiers as they stood on parade in the main hangar. Just a few hours after Kenobi’s arrival, he had returned to inspect the men. Captain Kitfox had somehow learned of this inspection ahead of time and purposefully placed him on the front row, likely just to tease him. If it wasn’t considered insubordination, ‘33 would’ve smacked him for it. 

He tried to pretend it was just another drill as he stood as straight and firm as he could, vaguely focusing on a very fascinating spot on the upper wall of the hangar as the Jedi casually sauntered past with a detached look on his face. If the General was judging his performance, he couldn’t tell.

“As you can see, they’ve been trained well. We’re strong in numbers, and we’ve supplied emergency troops to battlefields all over the Outer Rim. In addition to this, the 307th has the most reconnaissance experience in the entire GAR. You’ll find few just like it.” It was Yeltsin speaking. At his side stood a small number of bridge officers, who seemed avidly dedicated to writing down everything that was said. Behind them, stood captain Kitfox, accompanied by a severe-looking clone with the colors of the 212th. He had a clean mohawk and dark painted eyes and patiently watched the whole ordeal from the sidelines. The clone’s gaze fell on ‘33, and he quickly averted his eyes. 

“Yes, I’ve read the reports. You were providing assisting troops in the liberation of Bothawui, correct? That expertise will certainly come in handy,” Kenobi said. 

“You are correct, General Kenobi. Most of our men survived the siege, which has been a valuable experience in the following campaigns. We have one of the lowest casualty rates in the entire fleet.”

“Hmm.” Kenobi chimed, not seeming either impressed or critical of the statement, seemed to detach from the conversation, and started patrolling the row of troopers. He stopped at a few soldiers, looking them up and down with very little comment. 

The man presented an impeccable appearance, clad in brown robes and specially commissioned armor, sandy brown beard, and intelligent eyes hiding years and years of combat experience. ‘33 had seen the holovids. He had once studied the Jedi Order’s history, and General Kenobi’s feats had come up multiple times in his curriculum. He used to watch the tapes of the battle of Christophsis on repeat in his bunk as a young cadet. It was surprising to see him so tranquil, quietly surveying the line of troopers that stood beside him, not as the capable and ferocious warrior that he was on the battlefield. 

‘33 realized he was ogling again, and snapped back to watch that one very interesting spot in the hangar ceiling when the Jedi sauntered his direction. The Jedi seemed to be more preoccupied with discussing details with the Admiral than to pay any attention his way, which he silently welcomed. '33 wanted to let out a breath of relief when, to his surprise, he noticed the Jedi had suddenly turned back around and wandered his way. The Jedi stopped right before him and observed him carefully up and down with a mild look of intrigue. ‘33 felt a cold sweat down his back.

“You’re younger than the others,” the Jedi remarked with a practiced, casual aloofness. He grinned amicably, though his eyes remained focused, calculating. Then, he realized Kenobi’s hand was on his shoulder, with a friendly pat. “Try to stay alive out there,” he smirked.

“Sir, yes sir,” ‘33 saluted and tried not to collapse from pure adrenaline as the General left the hangar with the Admiral in tow. 

A few agonizing minutes passed before the General and the Admiral had left the hangar, and they were all dismissed. ‘33 looked back at the Captain, who had gleefully watched him flounder from the sidelines.

He scowled at him.

The captain simply grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

\---

“We’ll be exiting hyperspace in three… two… one…”

The bridge officer spoke calmly as the crew anticipated their arrival at the coordinate. They expectantly watched the viewport as the streaks of light shortened and suddenly stopped when the destroyer entered the new space. 

“We are now in orbit of planet 67-DCH99,” another officer said. 

It was, by all means, a dead planet, and so insignificant it could not even warrant a proper name. The beige surface reflected a sandy, dusty soil that was smolderingly hot on the sun side, and frigid in the dark. It could not sustain sentient life, nor could it hold any structures without them sinking into the soft soil, so it had been conveniently ignored on the backwater side of the Outer Rim for the last millennia or so. Perfect for a secret meetup with reinforcements. 

Their planned rendezvous had been coordinated months ago. A secret research team had created a large scale electromagnetic bomb that had the portability of a small tank, which could destroy Separatist machinery by emitting a planet-sized pulse of energy. They were scheduled to pick it up alongside its escort crew for their next large scale objective. Obi-Wan didn’t like the wait, but there wasn’t much he could do until there was some kind of confirmation of their location. 

Within minutes, they entered the sandy planet’s orbit. Obi-Wan watched the bridge officers chatter and send reports and orders to each other in trained synchronicity. He closely observed the viewport for their planned meetup location. The star system they had entered was mostly a wide-open space, occupied by one dying sun and some smaller uninhabited planets. 

The bridge began to grow quiet. An uncomfortable inkling began to grow in the back of his mind. Yeltsin seemed to sense the same thing, as he stood beside him with his hands behind his back. They shared a bewildered look. 

There was no escort to be seen. 

“This doesn’t make any sense,” said Obi-Wan, perplexed. The pit in his stomach grew. “This was the location we agreed upon.”

“Could there have been a miscommunication?” Yeltsin asked though they both knew the answer to that. This had been months in the planning. They didn’t miscommunicate. 

“That is impossible, sir,” Patch confirmed. He was a skinny clone with a neatly trimmed beard, dutifully keeping track of a datapad that flashed numbers and information at a near-impossible speed. “We’re at the exact coordinate. We’re not picking up any signs of reinforcements, yet. Running a scan of the area now, sir.”

Obi-Wan nodded. This was very peculiar. There had been no indication that their planned meeting was at risk; if their rendezvous had been at danger of being intercepted by the Separatists, then there would have been a warning ahead of time. 

‘’Are they delayed?’’ Yeltsin asked. The middle-aged man tapped his chest anxiously. 

‘’They left for hyperspace shortly before us. If they’ve arrived as planned, they would have been waiting for us for 4 and a half standard hours already. Should I send a signal in case they’re nearby?” Patch queried. The clone was coolly professional and waited for the Admiral that began to look more and more agitated by the second. 

Obi-Wan stepped forward before he had a chance to reply. 

“Better not. If there are Separatists in the area, I don’t want to alert them. Stay in orbit for at least half an hour before we try. I want them to reach out to us first. We’ve only just arrived, after all,” he said. “Do send an encoded message to Skywalker that there will be a small delay. I don’t want to leave this place before we locate our men.”

“Of course, sir,” Patch nodded and typed in the commands, and then he paused. “Hold on. I’m picking up movements behind the moon.”

“That better be my shipment,” Yeltsin grumbled. “This operation has been delayed long enough. I wanted my bomb yesterday.”

“You’ll get your bomb. I’d advise patience, Admiral Yeltsin,” Obi-Wan insisted, allowing some ice into his tone. The admiral gave him a sour look back but didn’t comment. 

Something was wrong, that much was clear. The question was what? Obi-Wan fell deep in thought for an inkling of the answer but came up blank. 

The ship sailed towards the moon naturally through orbit. Silently, the bridge crew watched as the pale moon came into view. It was one of the smaller moons as far as Obi-Wan was concerned, and could hardly be classified as such. The icy surface was still, partially illuminated by the surrounding stars. Its thin atmosphere gave it a hazy, smoky look that glowed white in the dim starlight.

“We have been delayed enough as it is,” Yeltsin grumbled. “What are they thinking - ...” 

“Wait…” Obi-Wan interrupted. Something felt very off about this. 

They rounded the moon’s surface, and that’s where they saw it. Two dozen transport ships and escort fighters - floating aimlessly, splintered and charred. Some had entered the moon’s thin atmosphere and crashed, leaving a smoky trail of dust and broken parts. A score of bloated, frozen clone bodies drifted in space, contorted in painful, broken postures as the _Vindication_ floated by. 

There were no survivors. 

“What… happened here?” Yeltsin murmured. 

“I could say the same,” Obi-Wan agreed. “Patch, are there any signals coming from the wreckage? Life signs, comms, anything?” 

“Checking now, sir,” the officer replied calmly, but not without a subtle tone of urgency. “Life signs are negative. Comms, negative. No electric signals either. The escort is dead, sir.”

“No electricity? Did they somehow launch the bomb by accident?” Obi-Wan remarked.

“That’s impossible. It can only be used by typing in the launch code. They’re highly confidential, General,” Yeltsin said. “Only I have the code.”

“Alright, that strikes off an accidental launch. Which brings me to the question, who or what did this?”

“There are no signs of Sep activity in the area, sir,” Patch reported.

“That we know of,” the Admiral retorted sourly. 

“We’re working on that one, sir,” the clone patiently replied. 

Obi-Wan nodded. 

“Good. Keep going. In the meantime, I’d like us to recover what we can. Round up who we can of the bodies for funeral rites. See if we can locate the bomb in the wreckage. I also want the ships stripped of weaponry and anything of value to discourage plundering. After that, we move.”

He heard a string of “yes, sir’s” around the bridge, and went into deep thought while he watched them work. His bad feeling had been right, but there was still something off about all of this. If anything, there were more questions than he could possibly begin to address on the bridge. 

He would simply have to wait and see that the men would find. 

\---

Word from the bridge had arrived that they would investigate the wreckage of their planned rendezvous. The details had been scant, but apparently there was something extremely valuable on one of the ships, and the Admiral had been very insistent that they needed to find it. There had been zero electrical signs which indicated there were no clankers on board, but the clones were still on high alert while they inspected the wreckage. 

It took about an hour of scanning before they located an ancient-looking transport ship. It stood out from the military escort by just how old and dirty it looked. It didn’t take a detective to figure out that the escort was protecting this dingy transporter before everything went tits up. Whatever had been on board must have been of extremely high value to warrant military protection of this degree. 

Thanks to some engineering tricks and brute force, the derelict transport ship was docked on the hangar floor. ‘33 helped as the crane slowly lowered the rusty machine down. Brash stood ready with a blowtorch to open the doors. Pluto was off further into the hangar and helped unload provisions and weaponry from the damaged escort ships. 

Kitfox stood back by the munitions crates with a tough-looking trooper in the back. He recognized the other one to be the morose-looking trooper from the inspection earlier that day. Judging by the red mark on his shoulders and his backpack, he looked to be a field medic. 

“Put this back with the other gear, would you,” Brash asked and didn’t wait for an answer as he dumped his toolbox in ‘33’s arms. ‘33 didn’t have a chance to say anything before the large man put his helmet back on and went back to work on the jammed door. The smell of fuel and molten metal filled the hangar as he left him to his work, and made his way over to the captain, toolbox in hand.

“I see you’re finding yourself useful right away, Sunshine,” Kitfox smiled.

“And I told you I’m not Sunshine, Captain,” he responded flatly, but there was no bite in it. Kitfox pretended he didn’t hear him and motioned to the older clone next to him. 

“Sunshine, meet Frostbite. We served together on Christophsis, and the lucky sonofabitch got assigned to the 212th shortly after. He’s probably one of the oldest clones you’ll ever meet, so be respectful.”

“I’d advise you to watch your mouth, Kit,” Frostbite grumbled back to the captain. “Don’t let the Captain mislead you. He and I are batchmates. He’s hardly a minute older than me.” 

“It just means he hasn’t found a way to kill me yet,” Kitfox pointed out. Frostbite shrugged as if the captain had made a fair point. 

The man in question was a little shorter than the captain, armor painted distinctly yellow in a jagged pattern and carrying a very respectable amount of wear and tear. He brandished a short mohawk, something he noticed was painted in a similar pattern on his helmet as well. He was unnervingly calm and unsmiling, which was further accented by his eyes that were lined with dark paint like the hollows of a skull. 

The two soldiers standing together couldn’t look any more like night and day; the captain lazily sipping from his beer and the other studying him with a dark, weary look that only the old batchers had. 

“Nice to meet you, sir. How come you’re back with the 307th?” ‘33 asked.

“General Kenobi is looking for replacements in the 212th. He took some serious losses on Umbara, so he was recommended here. I joined in because I asked if I could. Besides, Cody couldn’t make it,” Frostbite said, matter-of-factly, as if any clone had the clout to simply ask where to go. 

“You can do that?” ‘33 asked. 

“Officially, I’m here to consult on recruitment matters. In practice, I’m on leave to visit some annoying little brothers,” Frostbite shrugged. The medic fetched a bag of jerky from his large medical satchel and took a large bite. He offered him one. ‘33 shook his head. 

“Don't tell the Jedi he said that. He’ll send him back to the front before I can bother him to my heart's content,” Kitfox half-whispered. Frostbite nodded in agreement.

“So… Is it true we’re going to the Core worlds after this?” ‘33 asked.

“It’s possible. The General has not been keeping me up with the details, but word is we’ve got a big surprise for Dooku. A big hit,” Frostbite said and took a bite of his jerky.

“Kaboom,” Kitfox grinned widely. 

‘33 had no idea what that was supposed to insinuate, but he could sense something important was going to happen. The captain’s eyes were shining with the idea of whatever ‘Kaboom’ was going to be, and it was hard not to be infected by his cadet-like enthusiasm. 

He was given another can of beer from the captain’s secret stash, and they watched the troopers work on the derelict transport ship. Pluto joined Brash and gave him a bottle that he must’ve pilfered from one of the escort ships. The other clone gratefully accepted it, took a large swig, and got back to work. He was about halfway through the cutting process. Just a few more minutes and the door would be open. 

Regardless of the relaxed atmosphere around him, ‘33 couldn’t help but feel like something was… off. He took a large swig of his beer. 

—-

Obi-Wan couldn’t shake his bad feeling. 

His personal quarters smelled like trapped indoor air when he entered it. The small cabin was somewhat dusty from disuse. He was apparently one of the first Jedi to visit the _Vindication_ since Bothawui. It felt like years ago. Maybe it was.

He grabbed a datapad and slumped into the couch. Most of his reports had been filled on the way here, and the reception was too poor to receive any new ones. Realizing the futility of opening the messages on the flimsy connection, he tossed the pad aside and leaned back. 

Deep breaths. The cold lump in his stomach would not budge. 

His losses on Umbara cut deep. Returning to his battalion to see massive holes in the ranks hurt his feelings as much as their absences did in the Force. It was always hard to re-center himself after a big knock like that. Watching the rows and rows of clone troopers of the 307th only highlighted how massive his loss had been. He had no choice but to acknowledge the grief and move on. 

Still, sleep came harder to him these days.

He allowed himself to sigh in frustration. The Force was trying to tell him something. He just didn’t know what. He walked to the center of the room and sat down on the cold steel floor. Eyes closed, breaths regular. Not minding the dust that tickled his nose. Taking in the hundreds - nearly a thousand - life signatures on the enormous ship. The intermingling of little flares of life, going about their days around him. 

He sensed the day-to-day movements of troopers rotating their shifts, eating lunch, cleaning their quarters, taking stock of the ship's inventory. His consciousness drifted from soul to soul, acknowledging their feelings and moving on. He sensed the productive and restless spirits, eagerly anticipating their next mission. Ones that focused deeply on a difficult task. Those that would rather not do anything at all. The gentle chatter of brother to brother. 

He searched deeper, probed a small sliver of _something_ that caught his attention. He examined it closer, turning it in his mind. 

_A deep and overwhelming loneliness. Confusion and anger. Awoken. Too loud. Voices, too loud. Cold, dark malice. Rust and blood. Brothers._

_Empty, frigid, lonely._

Obi-Wan’s eyes shot open in a cold sweat. 

“The freighter,” he gasped and bolted for the door. 

\---

Frostbite excused himself and left for the medical deck shortly after their introduction, murmuring something about an appointment on the other side of the ship. That left ‘33 and Kitfox alone in their corner of the hangar. Kitfox munched on the rest of the jerky from the medic’s stash. 

“Ship’s open,” someone called from the other side of the hangar. Looking over, ‘33 saw the smoldering remains of the broken door clang to the floor. Brash, pleased with his handiwork, dropped his blowtorch with a whoop and took a large swig of his bottle. Kitfox whooped back and saluted with his beer.

A couple of troopers immediately headed inside to retrieve the contents. Brash got to work removing the door from the floor, and easily lifted the piece of scrap metal and pinned it against the wall of the freighter. He took another swig of his bottle. Pluto joined the captain and ‘33 with some crates of salvage from the other ships. He placed them on a trolley for transport to the warehouse for registration. 

Brash knocked on the wall of the freighter.

“Hey, Lex, Grin, what’s taking you so long? You get lost in there?” Brash called into the doorway. “You’re missing out on this wine, guys. If you don’t hurry up it’s all gonna be gone.”

A moment passed, and the troopers didn’t emerge from the ship. That was strange. It wasn’t a very large freighter.

It took ‘33 a second to register what was wrong. 

An enormous drone of steam and whirring machinery rung through the hangar. The freighter shook as something inside stirred and moved through it. In the dark entrance, ‘33 glimpsed a long, thin hand wrap around the still-glowing edge of the freighter door. Wrapped in shadow, only barely illuminated by the hangar lights, a hulking figure emerged from the hull of the ship. It towered above Brash, who stood just before it. 

“What… is that?” Pluto said, stunned. 

Whirling into action, Brash was about to grab his blaster, but it was too late. With enormous fists, the beast wrapped a metallic hand around Brash’s neck. He protested and squirmed as he was lifted several feet off the ground. ‘33 yelled something and began to run towards him when a strong hand held him back. It was Kitfox. He looked mortified. 

Brash didn’t make a sound as his neck snapped. The bottle crashed to the floor and broke into a thousand pieces. He was dropped to the floor, motionless.

Before he knew it, the entire hangar exploded into activity. 

Kitfox sprang to action and began barking orders. Clones around him bellowed and screamed. ‘33 grabbed his rifle and jumped behind a crate and started firing. The creature towered above them, unnervingly still. It was still partially wrapped in shadow, but flashes of its hulking frame were revealed with each bolt that hit its body. Brash’s body laid unmoving on the floor. His eyes were wide open in fear. 

With a hiss of machinery, the creature creaked into a sprint, headed straight toward the captain and him. With its enormous size, it looked like a dropship barreling towards him. Its icy blue eyes glared down at him. At that moment, he heard the elevator door open behind him and someone ran impossibly fast by him. 

“Get away from there! Run!”

It was the Jedi. His eyes were wide, and it looked like he had run from all the way across the ship. Lightsaber drawn, the pale blue light lit up the hangar. With a swipe of the sword, the creature veered to the side and skidded to a halt. 

Blaster bolts pelted off its armor, like glass marbles on durasteel. Each heavy, robotic movement, resounded through the metal floor. ‘33 could feel the vibrations of each step through his boots. From under its ratty cloth wrap, it brandished an enormous weapon and aimed it his way. With a hiss of smoke, a small flashing projectile flew towards him, faster than he could react.

With the swift move of his fist and without even touching it, Kenobi pushed the projectile away from them. The flashing object landed on a pillar where it got stuck. As soon as it touched the metal, a loud beeping timed with the flashing cut through the noise. 

“It’s a bomb!” Kitfox roared and tackled ‘33 to the ground. Vaguely he could sense other clones doing the same. 

The blast rocked the whole ship. Searing white flashed through his every sense. Every sound became muffled. ‘33 gasped as the shockwave passed over him. His and the captain’s bodies were surrounded with soot. 

Before he could wonder how he could be alive, he looked back and saw General Kenobi, arms outstretched. 

Before him, floated a smoldering, mangled drop ship, suspended in the air. He realized the ship had protected them from the main blast. General Kenobi motioned with his hands and the ship crashed immediately. The Jedi shambled for a second, catching his breath. As he dropped his stance, the smoke flowed into the little pocket that he had created to protect them from the explosion, and the smell of blood and dust invaded his lungs. 

_Hull breach detected._

The _Vindication_ groaned around them. The ground shook. The air around him roared and swirled as the enormous tear in the hull widened. 

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?” Kenobi said breathlessly. 

‘33 located his helmet on the floor, hastily put it on and broke for the edge of the hangar. 

His feet would not meet the ground, and he realized with a cold panic that he was fast going to get dragged into space. He couldn’t help but yell as he grabbed wildly at crates that were creaking against their tethers to the floor. Against the current of air that was fast ejecting from the chamber, he grabbed hold of a loose wire and watched with horror as the blast door not twenty feet from him began to close. 

Somehow, the Jedi was already behind the blast door with Kitfox, Pluto, and a dozen troopers. As he held onto the rocking crate, he could hear the creaking and groans of metal crumbling under the vacuum. He was sure he wouldn’t make it to the blast chamber in time before he would be launched into space, when Kenobi stepped forward, arms outstretched. Something large and invisible enveloped him, and suddenly he was thrown towards the others. 

Tumbling to the ground with a dry cough, he recovered in time to see the entire hangar of the _Vindication_ get sucked into space. The rift that was made in the blast unraveled the ship like a runaway thread on frayed fabric. The unsecured ships began flying around and crashing into each other, causing a chain reaction of explosions and flying debris. He watched as hundreds of his brothers flew into the nothingness of space. He hardly knew any of them. 

“This is what I was afraid of,” Kenobi muttered under his breath. 

“What do you mean the vacuum shields don’t work,” Kitfox barked at a trooper in the back. 

“I… I don’t know. We’ve tried to activate them, but they simply don’t work,” the trooper explained. 

“Get it fixed. _Now_!” he commanded, and the trooper ran down the corridor. 

“General, look over there!” A clone exclaimed and pointed at the viewport next to the blast door. Their attention was directed at where the freighter had been.

Wrapped in a dusty cloak that whipped and billowed in the rapid air stream, the creature remained. The cold blue stare fixed at them. It seemed hardly bothered by the loss of gravity. It had tethered itself to the floor, long limbs harpooned through the thick metal surface. 

Like hacking icepicks into a mountain wall, the creature took off into the nearest hangar door on the starboard side. With hulking strength, it punched the door several times, creating a gaping hole that sucked a pair of surprised troopers into the vacuum. It vaulted into the corridor, and the sounds of its footsteps resounded through the _Vindication_. 

The small group of survivors stood for a second, taking in the new threat in stunned silence. Kenobi lifted his comm to his mouth.

“Admiral Yeltsin,” he said. “We have an intruder.” 


	3. Collapse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the time of posting this, all of the chapters have been written and just need some edits and corrections. That means I can keep up this weekly schedule I've planned, which is going to be fun!

There was no response over the radio. The other troopers tried to use their comms as well, but there was nothing to be heard back from the bridge. They anxiously shuffled around the small space, waiting for Obi-Wan to give them their next order.

“Looks like we have gone dark,” Captain Kitfox reported, confirming what they all thought. “That means that most of the ship likely doesn’t know about our new guest.” 

Obi-Wan scratched his beard, deep in thought. How strange. A hull breach shouldn’t warrant a ship-wide communications blackout. Neither did the lack of vacuum shields. Something else was going on. 

“I hate to say it, but we need to split up,” he said. “I want you to spread the word about the invasion and tell the men to be on guard. I don’t want this creature to get any further into the ship.”

“Sir.” Kitfox acknowledged. 

“Captain, take as many men as you can and inform Admiral Yeltsin. Get a repair crew on the comms and shields as soon as possible. I will pursue the creature and try to stop it.”

“I’ll see to it,” the captain said, then he frowned. “But you shouldn’t go alone, General. You’ll need the extra firepower.”

“I can take care of myself, captain,” Obi-Wan retorted coolly. 

“Humor me. Just so that the Admiral doesn’t court-martial me for getting a Jedi killed,” he said with a wink. He framed it jokingly, but not without a hint of _don’t argue with me_. 

Obi-Wan considered it a moment before the ship shook from another shockwave coming from somewhere on the starboard side. The lights blinked above them.

“We’re wasting time. Alright, captain, I’ll take four men. Make it quick,” he concluded and waited as the captain barked orders to his men. 

“Slack, Imp, you go with him,” Kitfox said and nodded to two of the men next to him, who joined his side without hesitation. He then pointed to a slender trooper with an enormous sniper rifle. “Pluto. You go as well.” The sniper nodded. The captain scanned the rest of the group until he landed on a trooper in the back. “You too, Sunshine. That Jedi is too reckless for his own good. He could use your good sense.”

“I can hear you, Kitfox,” Obi-Wan deadpanned, trying not to let his impatience leak into his tone and failing. His emotions were all over the place. 

_Deep breaths. Center yourself._

“Ri-right!” Sunshine sputtered, surprised at having been chosen. He recognized the clone as the one he had rescued from the depressurized hangar not two minutes earlier. His armor was completely pristine compared to the others. 

“Make the 307th proud, brother,” Kitfox said to the shiny, who nodded in a quick salute and fell into place with the squad. 

“Right then. Try to keep up,” Obi-Wan nodded and sprang down the corridor. 

—-

Running down the endless corridors to locate the intruder took longer than he’d like. The hull breach had activated many of the automatic blast doors in the hallways, turning the place into a labyrinth, winding and backtracking with no way to tell which hallway was clear and which was blocked. With the vacuum shields down, opening any of the blast doors was too risky, in case the hull was compromised on the other side. There were no diagnostics officers over the radio telling them which corridors were safe and which ones weren’t. He simply had to follow the sounds of destruction up ahead and the guidance of the Force. 

“Admiral Yeltsin, come in. Do you read me?” He spoke into his comm, knowing full well what to expect. When the tiny speaker answered with static, he sighed and kept running. The only reasonable course of action was to take out the problem here and now. They could fix the comms later, as soon as that _thing_ was out of the picture. 

Alarms blared around them. The corridors flickered into darkness as the ship rocked and groaned from the hull being torn apart. They passed several troopers who were running around in confusion, trying to find out what’s going on. He heard Imp and Slack give brief orders to them as they ran past. Spreading information through word of mouth alone was an uphill battle, but for now, it was their only option. 

Obi-Wan suddenly stopped. The trooper right behind him skidded to a halt with a grunt of surprise. He looked down on the floor before him. 

“This is… this is going to be a problem,” he murmured, staring wide-eyed at the scene before him. The clones behind him looked confused at his statement before they finally entered the room. They all recoiled in disgust.

Enormous dents marked the wall where something large and heavy had collided with it. Scorch marks from blasters littered the metallic surfaces everywhere. Sparks flew from the panels around and pipes were exposed leaking condensation. Oil and lubricants leaked from the ceiling and dribbled down onto the floor in half-congealed chunks, covering the walls and floor in a slick sheen. 

Just by his feet, he had almost stumbled into a clone - or, half of one. Bathed in his own blood and entrails, the trooper had died reaching for the door they had just entered. His legs were somewhere further down the hall. Another clone was smashed into the wall with the force of a runaway speeder, half embedded in the steel panel, and bleeding a pool of red onto the floor below, blending into the oil and grime in a smear of red and black. A third body laid spread-eagle across the floor. His head was nowhere to be seen. 

“What… happened here?” Slack murmured in disgust, echoed by the three others.

“That clanker happened,” Pluto replied grimly and carefully inspected the corridors for any anomalies with Imp covering his back. Their boots were blackened by the time they reached the end of the corridor. The others followed, slowly, carefully not to slip on the oil. 

The blast door ahead was shut. Instead, there was a large gash in the wall where the culprit had somehow carved a path through. Its footsteps were enormous and heavy, prints clearly visible against the pristine deck of the _Vindication_. 

“It’s not trying to conceal itself,” Sunshine observed quietly. 

“Looks like it doesn’t need to,” Slack replied grimly. 

“Like crumbs on a trail…” Obi-Wan muttered under his breath. 

It was close. 

He took off running, following the prints. He could sense it ahead. The malicious, cold, aching source of _something_ just a few corridors down. The pit in his stomach grew heavier as the destruction and death were slowly revealed before him. The closer he ran, the larger the trail of blood became. The stench was unbearable. He passed another crushed half of a trooper by, passing by his other half at the other end of the hallway. 

Obi-Wan sensed it before he saw it. 

He dodged out of the trajectory of a long, rusty metal arm that shot forward and crashed into the wall next to him. A clone hung from his neck in its grasp, scrabbling for air before falling limp. 

Clad in the ratty brown cloth, the creature almost completely filled the corridor with its massive size. Two thin, crane-like arms held a wailing clone between their grasp, threatening to pull him apart. Another pair of arms were striking a reinforced door with incredible strength, each strike shaking the corridor around them. It seemed to want to carve a path deeper into the ship. With each strike, steam poured from its form, enveloping it in a strange, hot mist and obscuring its form from view. 

It was clear the creature was entirely robotic. Then, why did he sense such a strange aura about it?

Slack and Pluto, who had been following just behind, burst into action and began firing at the creature. Imp and Sunshine came just after and kneeled by the door and provided assisting firepower. As the blaster bolts hit its frame, the creature paused mid-strike. With a groan of hydraulics and rusted metal, it slowly turned toward them. The icy blue lights were trained directly at him. A cold chill ran down Obi-Wan’s back. 

Obi-Wan went into a defensive position, ready for anything. He eyed the sobbing trooper in its grasp and considered his options. Rockets or bombs were too risky - the extent of the damages to the hull is not yet known and he didn’t want to risk ejecting any more souls out to space. If blasters were useless and explosives were out of the question, then defeating it was going to be up to him. He lit his lightsaber.

“Be careful. We don’t know what it's capable of yet,” he warned his troops, getting acknowledging grunts in return.

He lunged at it. With a running start, he sprang up towards its head and attempted to strike one of the arms that held the clone. His trajectory was thrown off course by a third set of arms hidden under the cloak shot forward, and he deftly sprang out of their way. For a gargantuan droid, it was surprisingly past. And there was something about it… an inkling in the back of his mind that told him something was very, very wrong. 

Obi-Wan dodged another strike and pushed it back with the Force, hoping to topple it. It responded by digging one of its arms into the wall, sparks flying as it skidded backward, but didn’t fall. Momentum recovered, the droid ripped its arms out of the wall with a loud creak of bending steel. The droid marched forwards towards him and attempted to grapple him again, but this time he saw it coming. He bounced out of the way and vaulted over its head, landed on the other side of the creature and attempted to swipe its legs. The metal sparked against the pulsing plasma 

The leg was smoking, and there was a singed spot where his saber hit. 

He frowned. 

It was still fully intact. 

The creature rotated around to face him. Blaster bolts flew off its metallic carapace, completely unbothered. The clone in its arms screamed incoherently, drowned out by the sounds of blasters and alarm sirens and pistons hissing and pumping inside of the creature. The trooper was suddenly tossed aside, and he crashed against the wall with a wet crack.

Obi-Wan surged into action. He ran at the creature and bounced away from the metallic, grasping hands that flew toward him. Dodging the incoming barrelling fists, he caught a glimpse of something… peculiar. 

Just underneath the cloth, there was a strange triangular shape, pulsing faintly red, embedded in its torso. It was too small to see from the distance and it emitted a strange, uncanny aura that he couldn’t put his finger on. The strange object seemed to respond to his presence, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. 

Could it be its power source?

“I think I found a weak spot,” he yelled to his men. “Hit its chest!”

The men acknowledged his command and redirected their fire. Obi-Wan changed to an attacking stance and began swiftly dodging around it, swiping where he could and be gone before it could counter-attack. Compared to other droids in the Separatist army, he had faced worse. He weaved and swiped at its armor, to no effect. Until… 

“There,” he said, eyeing the triangular glow in its armored chest. 

He plunged his saber towards it. It made contact and -

_A deep and overwhelming loneliness._

_Confusion and anger. Awoken. Too loud. Voices, too loud._

_Cold, dark malice. Rust and blood._

_Empty, frigid, lonely._

Stars filled his vision. He recoiled and staggered backward in surprise. His head pounded, pulsing with _something_ that had just crawled into his brain. That cold, heavy feeling that had nagged in the back of his mind for hours resurfaced, stronger than ever, and pierced his soul like a rusted needle. 

Darkness enveloped him, and for a moment he was floating in nothingness. 

_Empty, frigid, lonely._

_Empty, frigid, lonely._

_Empty, frigid, lonely._

_Empty, frigid, lonely._

_Empty, frigid, lo - ..._

Obi-Wan didn’t sense himself flying and colliding with the wall. He came to, vision swimming and mouth dry, gasping unevenly for air as the wind got knocked out of him. He vaguely sensed a trooper grabbing his arms and dragging him away. 

“Fuck! We need reinforcements!”

“Nobody knows we’re here, Slack!” Imp yelled back. “Get the General to safety!” 

Obi-Wan blinked. What just happened?

He was pulled back just in time to see Imp get trampled by the enormous droid. He was dead instantly. 

“I can… I can fight it,” Obi-Wan slurred and reached for his lightsaber. He winced. His shoulder protested firmly against the movement. His head pounded ceaselessly, so much he could hardly see. He braved a glance down his chest to locate his saber. It was nowhere to be found. “Where…?”

“Get him away from that thing,” Pluto barked at Slack and the other clone nodded. “Sunshine, hold your ground. I will distract it.”

Obi-Wan staggered to his feet and realized he was suddenly leaning against Slack’s shoulder. They were moving away from the monster. He vaguely registered Sunshine and Pluto covering their backs just up ahead. 

He felt rather than saw the dark shadow that passed overhead. A metallic hand with long, menacing fingers wrapped around Slack’s head and dragged him back, yanking them both to the floor. Obi-Wan watched with blurry vision as the trooper was dragged back from his head and into the looming shadow of the robot’s form.

Pluto fired bolt after bolt, to no avail. He vaguely noticed Sunshine running over to Obi-Wan. He was dragged up and they began the slow march down the corridor. 

“Close the door behind us,” Obi-Wan said. Mouth dry. Stilted. He felt oddly distant, as if the legs he was walking on weren’t his. “Delay it.”

Sunshine nodded and didn’t waste any time getting to work. The door was a few feet behind them, so the rookie placed him next to a trolley carrying equipment and gear and ran over to the controls. The rookie shouted for Pluto to follow. 

The older clone was holding his ground against the creature. Unlike the standard-issue rifle, Pluto’s sniper was equipped with heavy enough rounds that staggered it. He carefully timed each blast, hitting the droid mid-stride to throw it off rhythm. It didn’t stop it, but it slowed it down. The clones barked orders to each other, as Pluto carefully stepped backward, firing bolt after bolt at the droid’s armor to keep it at bay.

Sunshine paused and looked over to the drums again. “Wait, I have an idea.”

He grabbed two canisters and ran back towards Pluto.

“What the hell are you doing? Get away from here!” the sniper shouted. 

“Trust me!” Sunshine yelled back and heaved one canister above his head. “When I say shoot…”

Pluto regarded him for a moment. 

“Don’t mess up,” he said. 

Sunshine carefully measured the weight and distance of the monster that was slowly lumbering toward them. Then, he leaned back, did one last measurement - and tossed. It flew in a clean arc above its head, just barely hitting the corridor ceiling and toward the droid’s head.

“Shoot!”

The sniper replied with a single round of heavy blaster fire, hitting the canister perfectly. It exploded with a burst of white foamy liquid and mist. It hit the robot across the torso and liquid leaked into its exposed machinery, emitting steam as the material touched the hot surface. 

The droid floundered against the foreign substance, before it gradually became slower and more stilted, and then stopped moving. It stood there in the middle of the corridor, still whirring and glowing. The empty blue eyes staring holes at him. 

But it was completely still.

Pluto let his rifle down for a second and watched it for a few moments. They all panted heavily. Obi-Wan was caught by surprise how quiet the corridor suddenly became.

“Did it… did it work?” Sunshine stuttered. He held the second canister protectively against his chest and stared at the unmoving monster.

“What the hell was that?” Pluto exclaimed and pointed back at the steaming robot down the corridor.

“Liquid nitrogen, sir,” Sunshine replied. “It’s nitrogen in a liquid state at low temp…”

“You don’t have to explain it, kid. Hurry up and get the General to the medbay. I’ll close the blast door.”

“Right!”

Sunshine ran over to Obi-Wan, who had watched the whole thing. He helped him back to a stand, much to the protest of his shoulder and head and ribs... his everything. Everything hurt. Still, he didn’t take his eyes off the droid for one moment. As welcome as the rookie’s ingenious idea was, it was short lived. 

“It’s waking up,” Obi-Wan slurred. His vision swam and flashed white with stars for each passing heartbeat. 

They heard a grinding noise of metal against metal. The droid slowly began moving, with stilted repetitive movements before, with a hiss, it heated up the entire room with steam. From beneath its cloak, it brandished a weapon. They saw a large projectile that flashed red. It was the same type of sticky bomb that had just unraveled the whole hangar. However, unlike the enormous hangar space, this was an enclosed area.

In a panic, Sunshine tossed the other canister of liquid nitrogen with his off-hand. Pluto followed the trajectory of the canister through the scope of his rifle and fired again. With a splash, the canister exploded in a white, snowy cloud that seeped into the cracks and crevices of the droid. Just like last time, the droid fell silent and didn’t move. 

However, they now had a different problem; from its frozen arms, the bomb clinked to the floor and rolled in their direction. It was still flashing. 

All three of them shared a nervous glance. 

“Run!” Pluto bellowed. He closed the blast door, and grabbed Obi-Wan’s other arm, and carried him away. They bolted through the corridor and urged other troopers to follow suit as they passed them by. The doors closed behind them one after one, but they all knew it wouldn’t be enough. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or if he could hear the beeping of the impending blast, no matter how far they ran.

He made up his mind. He wrestled free of Sunshine and Pluto’s grasp and positioned himself in the middle of the passage, arm forward and eyes closed. He hardly noticed the chaos around him as he tapped into the Force, absorbing it in like he would take a big gulp of air before a deep dive.

“What the hell are you doing?” Pluto yelled. 

“What I can,” Obi-Wan said, feeling the Force swirl around him. It was going to be risky, but he had to try. There was nothing else he could do. “Stand by me.” 

He tapped as deep into his reserves as he could, pushing beyond his boundaries and then some. He sensed the walls around, the souls running and yelling in confusion, the vibrations ringing through the durasteel plated floors. It was more energy he was used to dealing with at once, far too much at once and far too fast. His body was trembling with the pain and effort, but still, he doubled down. 

There was a sudden silence, then a resounding boom.

Obi-Wan could sense the shockwave that was coming before it arrived. He reached into the Force and gathered all of the energy he could muster. The floor shook, the explosive force rolled toward them. He wrapped them with a protective force field, a cocoon, centered just in his immediate area. It's all he could do. 

_Deep breaths. Center yourself._

The blast door blew open, his vision filled with white and -


	4. Remains

‘33 awoke.

His bearings arrived along with the weight of something heavy crushing his body. It was slow at first, like dragging his consciousness through knee-deep dirt and grime. Darkness, low drones of distant machinery, a strange feeling of the ground beneath him not feeling entirely steady. His mind wandered to standing on a boat in Kamino, feeling drenched and heavy and hungry and tired and -

“Oh fuck,” he gasped, and then cringed at how loud it sounded. 

The stench of oil, humidity, and blood entered his helmet, intruding into his consciousness like a needle in the brain. Where the hell was he? It didn’t feel like any of the drills on Kamino. 

No... The _Vindication_. The empty freighter. The explosion in the hangar. A droid... A large one. 

The Jedi.

‘33 woke with a start, which he regretted immediately when his helmet knocked with a loud clang against a big piece of _something_ just above him. A moment of additional investigation told him that he was lying face down underneath a piece of rather large metal… a piece of the wall, it would seem. Or maybe ceiling? 

Luck was on his side. The slab of debris pinned over him was resting on top of loosened pipes that stuck out from the wall, creating a small tent-like space. It gave him just enough wiggle room to free himself without causing too much injury. In fact, it seemed the plating above him had protected him from a rather large explosion. There were scorch marks everywhere but under the little nook he found himself in. 

Aside from a pounding headache - and what would be some eventual heavy bruising down his back - he was fine. 

The General, however, was not doing so well. He was unconscious, lying pressed just underneath him. His usually immaculately groomed appearance was nowhere to be seen; his sandy hair flopping into his face and beard sticky with blood and sick. The bleeding had stopped some time ago, as it had darkened quite a bit. 

_How long have I been out?_

Not wanting to contemplate it further, ‘33 moved. Slowly, carefully, he began to lift the piece of plating above him. It creaked and groaned from the pressure, but it didn’t seem to loosen anything else above him. Causing a chain reaction of falling debris is the last thing he wanted to happen. 

With the wreckage out of the way, he saw how lucky he had been. The room was utterly unrecognizable, charred, and half-melted from where the explosion had hit. Had they been closer to the hull, they would have certainly been ejected. In fact, it seemed that the two diameter area just around them was strangely unharmed. 

Not bothering to ponder it any longer, he brought his comm to his mouth. “Calling all channels, this is CT-5633. General Kenobi is badly hurt. I need assistance.”

The speaker was unnervingly still in return. Did it break in the blast? 

No, the comms had been down since the hull breach. 

A cursory check on his helmet’s HUD showed that he had been unconscious for nearly half a day. He felt his stomach plummet. Kenobi might not have much time. 

Clearing the debris from the Jedi’s body revealed something far more pressing - a long, thin iron rod that protruded from his side. There was a large bloom of red around the wound, but ironically, the piece of metal likely kept him from bleeding out the several hours they had been out. 

“That… complicates things,” ‘33 breathed. His mind raced with all of the drills and training in his simulations. He had a few standard-issue bacta patches in his belt pouch. He grabbed a part of the Jedi’s tabard and tore it into strips. The material was tougher than he expected, which was a blessing in disguise. The thick material would take longer to bleed through. It would do.

He gingerly and carefully freed him of the iron rod. The man moaned but didn’t wake. Quickly, he wrapped the wound with the bacta patches and tied them as best he could with the cloth strips. Somewhat pleased with his handiwork, he hauled him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. A visit to the medbay would do more good than waiting around for help. 

Before he began the trek back, he did a cursory look around the area. He dug around the rubble, for any clues, anything.

“Pluto?”

There was no answer. Lips thin, he hesitantly looked back and then began the long trek toward the medbay.

\---

A chill ran down his spine as he slowly made his way through the labyrinthine corridors of the _Vindication_. Everywhere he went, there were bodies, smashed and broken. Trails of blood and sinew decked the floor and made every step feel sticky. The path was completely dark save for the deep red emergency lights above and the flimsy headlight from his helmet. 

Each of his footsteps resonated loudly down the empty corridors. Some blast doors were shut, and he was forced to turn around. In other places, the floor had collapsed into levels below, exposing beams and tubes that leaked water, sewage, and oil. Some rooms were on fire, spewing smoke and dangerous chemicals he did not want the General to come near.

He entered a hallway where the fluorescent lights flickered arhythmically. There were traces of blood along the wall, but he couldn’t see any bodies. Between the blinks of the lamps, he spotted an open door near the end of the corridor. There was a medical cross painted on the wall next to it.

“Perfect,” he smiled to himself. Small victories. 

Quietly, he entered, careful not to knock the General’s head on the door frame. The room was completely dark, and to his displeasure, the light switch did not work. He activated the little headlight attached to his helmet. 

“Alright, so there’s no power,” ‘33 muttered to himself. “Great.”

It was almost impossible to see anything in the cramped room. He carefully deposited Kenobi’s body onto one of the exam tables attached to the domed medical scanner. Searching around he knocked into tables and almost tripped on a loose cable. 

The flimsy flashlight glanced over a skull shape in the back, and he almost fired his blaster at it from sheer instinct, before he realized it was a plastic model of a human skeleton. He sighed in frustration at his own skittishness and shoved the skeleton aside. 

He finally found the medical droid in the corner. It was crumpled, crushed against a medical cabinet, leaking oil. 

“Just my luck,” he groaned.

With the med-droid out of the question, he began scanning the desks and cabinets for anything useful. He tore open all the drawers he could find and allowed himself a little whoop in celebration when he found a flashlight, one stronger than the one his helmet was equipped with. Armed with better visibility, he located some basic gear; bacta patches, medical staples, bandages, painkillers. A lot of it had been raided already, but he was lucky to find an entire cabinet that was untouched, likely overlooked in the darkness.

With renewed motivation, he returned to the General’s side. The provisional first-aid work and the extended fireman’s carry had not done any favors for the puncture wound in his midsection. The cloth strips had been shifted to the side and the bacta patch had loosened slightly, allowing a sluggish stream of red to seep through. 

A quick glance in a nearby mirror revealed how much blood the Jedi had lost; from ‘33’s shoulder and down to his thighs, he saw a glistening red stripe against his white, unmarked armor. 

Now, armed with some actual equipment, he got to work. With no power and a dubious light source, ‘33 was unsure how much better he would do than his previous attempt playing the role of a medic, but at least this time the equipment was sanitized. 

“Why didn’t I take those extra first aid classes,” he lamented under his breath, trying his best to disinfect, close and stick the gauze to the General’s wound. The bandage stuck, but another round of fireman’s carry might undo all of his work. He would have to wait for the bacta to do its work. 

A crash sounded behind him and he froze. He turned to the corridor behind him, searching for the source.

The lights flashed ceaselessly on the other side of the door, at a disorienting, dizzying speed. 

He heard another clang, this time closer. It came from the hallway he had just arrived from. 

And another. 

And another. 

And another.

A scraping sound of metal screeching against metal grated against his eardrums. Are those… footsteps?

He hesitantly sneaked to the entrance of the medbay and grabbed his rifle. Inching closer to the door, he risked a peek. The lights blinked, endlessly. 

Light. Dark. Light. Dark. Light.

Several feet down the empty corridor, he could hear the noises approaching. The floor began to vibrate with each step. A metallic fist wrapped around the corner of the corridor up ahead. It was followed by the head, and two round, unblinking eyes, obscured in the darkness of the ratty hood.

‘33 staggered backward in shock. He tripped and knocked into a counter. Lots of pieces of equipment and data pads clattered to the floor. He flinched from the racket. 

“ _Shit!_ ” he hissed quietly to himself. “That thing is still alive?!”

In a cold panic, he scanned the room. There was no way he could run away with the General unconscious. His blaster was useless. His mind spun with plan after plan after plan while the heavy, metallic footsteps loomed closer and closer. 

‘33 whirled into action. With no other options, he grabbed the bottom of Kenobi’s gurney and forced it into the diagnostic scanner. There was no power to run it, causing a loud screeching noise from the machinery protesting against it. He successfully pushed it in, and tossed a pile of shock blankets over his legs, stuffing the entrance. In the darkness, it would be impossible to see that there was a person in there. He just hoped it’d be enough. 

‘33 could see the enormous machine’s shadow grow larger for each blink in the hallway. Without thinking, he ran to the corner of the room, where the medical droid laid crushed. He lifted it with some effort and sat down where it had been. He dragged the robot over his body, hopefully disguising him well enough. Its weight smothered him, and the lolling, metallic head scratched against his helmet. He switched off his flashlights. Oil leaked from the droid’s dented shell and spilled onto his armor. 

The footsteps roamed closer and closer, and for a second, he was hoping that the creature would pass the med-bay by altogether. Then, it stopped, right in front of the entrance. The whirring of machinery and pistons whined and crooned as it turned with stilted robotic movements to face the door. 

In the darkness and the endless flashing, all he could see was the imposing silhouette of the creature as it stood in the doorway. Two, icy blue eyes were visible under its hood. One of its many arms slowly slinked into the medbay, followed by another and then another, as a spider would crawl out of a hole. The creature fit itself through the narrow door and began scanning the room. 

‘33 held his breath. 

Metal and steam groaned and creaked as it slowly started to wander the small space. The thin, skeletal arms orbited around it and brushed against each surface of the room as if they could see or sense things. It picked up cups and pens and tossed them aside as it deemed them uninteresting. 

One of the rusted hands touched the model skeleton in the corner. As if recognizing the shape of a human skull, its head whipped around, inspected it - and squeezed. The model skeleton crumpled under its grasp like stepping on a seashell. The skeleton was dropped, and the droid observed with interest as it crashed to the floor. The fragments of the skull rolled over to the corner ‘33 hid. 

His pulse was louder than the clangs of the robot’s enormous feet crushing glass and plastic under its weight. 

The arms resumed scanning the room, like little feelers of an insect. ‘33’s eyes widened as one hand whipped just past his face and landed on the droid on top of him. The head whipped around, and it closed in on the head in its grasp. The enormous silhouette filled his entire vision. All he could see were the unblinking, lifeless blue eyes inspecting the medical droid’s head, turning it, twisting it. Then squeezed. The medical droid’s head crumpled easily and leaked oil and wires onto his helmet. It covered his visor, clouding his vision with grey and black.

‘33 felt himself turn blue from lack of breath. His heart pulsed so loudly he thought it was going to burst from his chest. 

Then, the droid halted. With a puff of steam and hydraulics, it straightened its back and turned. It dropped the droid’s head onto him and he had to stop himself from grunting in surprise. Seemingly satisfied with its search, the arms retreated back under its cloak and started marching out of the corridors. 

Stilted, repetitive clangs rang through the ship as it walked further and further away. And then it was too far away to be heard at all.

‘33 didn’t move from his spot for several minutes. 

He wasn't sure if he could.


	5. Communications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of the wonderful comments I've gotten so far!! I may not respond all of the time, simply because I just don't know what to say to all of the kind words. But trust that I read them all, and I have big heart eyes every time I do!! 
> 
> Thanks again! And without further ado, I hope you enjoy this chapter and see y'all next week :)

‘33 didn’t waste any time getting out of the medbay and far, far away from the creature. 

He found a medic’s backpack in one of the cabinets and stuffed it full of equipment that hadn’t been crushed or broken by the droid’s footsteps. Geared up with as much as he could carry, he returned General Kenobi to the fireman’s carry and resumed his exploration of the ship. 

He had only been stationed on the _Vindication_ for three days before the attack. It didn’t give him enough time to memorize the structure of the ship, and he had to follow the directional signs as much as possible so as not to get lost. He did have preliminary map training on Kamino - and even visited one of these ships as a young cadet - but each star destroyer had slightly different purposes and was constructed for different needs. 

The _Vindication_ was no exception; with the heavier focus on recon and support troops, the ship was filled with endless corridors leading to bunks and warehouses. It made every hallway nearly identical. In a way, the scorch marks and trails of blood helped him navigate it better. 

_Small blessings, I suppose_ , he thought wryly to himself.

He explored the ship for nearly an hour. The destruction had been way more comprehensive than he first thought. He had followed a path to the nearest escape pods for the better part of that hour before the smoke and fire in that section forced him to turn around. 

There was no choice but to aimlessly wander the place, hoping that he wouldn’t make too much noise. Endurance training had been one of his strengths, but by the forty-minute mark, the weight of the Jedi on his shoulders began to ache.

A sound in his helmet suddenly sparked to life and he yelped in surprise. 

“. _.. message to all living personnel to respond. This is a ship-wide message to…_ ”

'33 gasped and fumbled to switch on the comm mic in his helmet. 

“CT-5633 speaking,” ‘33 said hurriedly as if the voice would disappear if he didn’t speak up fast enough. “I am reading your message.”

 _“Patch here. Good to finally hear a friendly voice._ ” The man on the other end responded. '33 immediately recognized his voice and accent to be a clone.

“Likewise, sir,” he smiled briefly before he remembered the weight on his back. “I- I have the General. He’s in a bad way.”

“ _The General?_ ” Patch blurted. The line was quiet for a second before the voice crackled through the small speaker again. “ _We salvaged some medical equipment before the station blew. Come to the Officer’s Deck, undetected. It doesn’t know we’re here yet_.”

“Copy that. I’m at the Engineering deck now, headed your way. Bogey was last spotted in the medbay by Requisitions 5D an hour ago.”

“ _Right. Is the General responsive?_ ”

‘33 glanced at Kenobi’s unconscious form hanging across his shoulders. Aside from pulling out the metal rod of his side, he had been unnervingly silent. He could feel the man’s pulse in his grasp, but who knew how long it would last. “Negative. I did what I could, but he needs emergency care ASAP.”

Another bout of silence ensued before the clone spoke again. _“I’ll send Frostbite and Carcass your way. Rendezvous at Mess Hall B and they’ll help you out_.”

‘33 perked up. Frostbite? A surge of relief filled him, hearing the familiar name, even though he didn’t know the guy very well. 

Mess Hall B was just around the corner. The counters and tables would make it more defensible than the narrow pathways. He could pick up provisions and get some water. It would do. 

“Appreciated,” ‘33 said. “But… how am I speaking to you at the moment? I thought the comms were down.”

“ _I_ _set up something using spare parts around the ship. At the moment it only works with the trooper helmet wavelength_ ,” Patch explained. “ _The ship-wide intranet is completely busted. No signals will go in or out of the ship. I’m... working on a solution._ ”

‘33 nodded. That’s good news. Maybe getting out of here wasn’t a pipe-dream after all. “Good to know,” he replied. “By the way, the creature doesn’t like the cold. It was hit with a canister of liquid nitrogen. It seemed to stun it,” ‘33 reported. 

“ _Noted. Don’t die out there,_ ” Patch said. 

“Not before the General is safe,” ‘33 replied wryly. His arms were tired from carrying the Jedi and his armor was stained black from oil, soot, blood, and sweat. At least he had some brothers out there. 

“ _Then you better get here soon. Patch out_.”

\---

It was a slow going getting to the mess hall. His head was pounding, his body hurt from the blast, and he was hungry and parched. Carrying the dead weight that was General Kenobi certainly didn’t help his aching shoulders. He carefully made his way through, his senses overly aware of any sound and drip of condensation that fell from the roof. Occasionally he would find a body, a sign that the creature had passed through this place at some point. Sometimes he would stop just to listen, to hear if the tell-tale clangs of footsteps were approaching.

Kenobi began to rouse shortly before he found the doors to the mess hall. A strained sound came deep from his throat, his voice hoarse and squinting eyes, which ‘33 could only assume was born from a killer headache.

Maneuvering them both into the hall and quietly entering the kitchen, he gently put him down on the floor where he could see all of the exits. Thankfully, there was power in this section, and the fluorescent light of the kitchen lamps cast few shadows. 

“I’ve secured a spot in the mess hall kitchen. Waiting for pickup,” ‘33 reported. 

“ _Good. I’ll let Frostbite know. He got close to the clanker, so he had to reroute. He’ll be there soon._ ”

He didn’t like the sound of that, but he nodded all the same. “Right.” 

He sat on a kitchen counter and nibbled absentmindedly on a carrot he found on the abandoned surface. It probably wasn’t very sanitary, but with nothing else to occupy his mind, he didn’t think too hard about it. 

He looked down on Kenobi’s sprawled body. He had no idea what had happened just before that explosion before he passed out. The Jedi had wrestled free of his grip, and somehow… protected them both from the shockwave that had completely demolished their surroundings. He knew the Jedi Generals were powerful, Kenobi in particular, but the stunt seemed to defy all laws of the universe. Did Jedi really have the power to stop a bomb? Regardless, he was grateful to be alive. 

A few minutes into anxiously nibbling on the leftover ingredients, he noticed Kenobi finally begin to stir. He seemed sluggish and disoriented, but to his relief - not on death’s door. 

“Where... are we?” Kenobi groaned. 

“General! You’re awake! We are in Mess Hall B awaiting reinforcements, sir. We’re going to patch you up and locate the nearest escape pod, sir.”

He opened his eyes and looked surprised at his enthusiastic voice. He glanced around the room warily before turning back to him. “Then there are…”

“Survivors, yes... Though I don’t know how many. Clone troopers Patch, Frostbite, and Carcass, sir. The latter two are on their way to help us out, sir,” Sunshine dutifully reported. 

Kenobi frowned in response. Hearing that only three aside from themselves were alive was perhaps not the news he had hoped to hear. The Jedi made an attempt to move, but he stopped with a pained wince. 

“I… don’t think you should do that, sir. You were skewered by a metal rod, which will need stitches… or better ones than I could give, at least. And I think you may have some cracked ribs too. You should not move until the others arrive, General.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Kenobi wheezed with his eyes squeezed shut with an arm across his face. He breathed as deeply as he could and rode out the pain. 

“I need to know if there’s internal damage, sir. Do you feel any unusual pain in your abdomen?”

“Oh, as opposed to regular pain?” the General retorted breathlessly with no real bite in the remark. ‘33 simply stared as the Jedi breathed slowly and measuredly through his nose with a hard bite to his bloodied lip. “It’s hard to tell. I’m kind of preoccupied with having recently been impaled.”

‘33 didn’t press any further, as Kenobi seemed to be as well behaved as a patient as he could expect, judging by the circumstances. He simply sat back on a counter and dragged his fingers through his short hair, awkwardly looking back at the doors. He hardly had any idea how to hold a conversation with a regular trooper, much less one of the highest ranked officers in the GAR. 

“Frostbite, you said?” Kenobi asked, after a moment of silence. 

“Yeah. He left the hangar shortly before it blew up,” ‘33 said. 

“Good. That’s good,” Kenobi grinned weakly. “That man has a way of surviving even the unlikeliest of scenarios. We’ll be in good hands.”

That… did make ‘33 feel a little more at ease. While most of the crew had been utterly decimated in this strange attack, the ones who did survive seemed to be experienced. Capable.

He watched as the General closed his eyes with calmly drawn breaths and dropped the grimace of pain as the Jedi entered some sort of trance. It looked like he was sleeping, but he could tell that the man was still awake. He was curious, but kept his mouth shut.

An uneasy quiet befell both of them. ‘33 paced the small kitchen space and watched each door with suspicion and anticipation. He rooted through the cupboards and fridges to find anything they could use, but aside from the usual slop of rations and frozen provisions, there was little other to do but sit on a counter with his rifle primed and ready for anything.

Whatever the Jedi was doing, it seemed to ease his condition somewhat. ‘33 stopped himself from nervously shaking his leg, but he couldn’t help his gaze flicking towards the doors. 

“Still your thoughts, trooper. I need you focused right now,” the General said, eyes still shut. 

‘33 cringed. Was he being that obvious?

“Right.”

Kenobi sighed, having seemingly given up on meditation for now. “Sunshine, was it?”

“Huh?”

“Your name. I recall Captain Kitfox saying your name back there.”

“That’s not… that’s not my name. I’m CT-5633.”

The Jedi raised an eyebrow. “Frostbite’s number is CT-2140. Captain Kitfox is CT-2143. I don’t recall hearing you call them that.”

“That’s not… that’s not the same.”

“Alright,” he nodded and rose carefully to sit against the wall. Color had somewhat returned to his cheeks. Maybe that short, strange moment of rest had healed him somewhat? “Then what would you prefer I call you?” 

‘33 bit his lip, perplexed. 

No one had ever bothered to ask him what he preferred before.

His thoughts went to captain Kitfox. To Brash. To Pluto. They had all been teasing him, messing about, but they had taken care of him, welcomed him. Despite his awkward protests against the nickname, it was something personal, unique. A present from his comrades to him. 

“Sunshine is… Sunshine is fine, I guess,” he admitted.

Kenobi smiled. It was warm. Sincere. 

“It suits you,” he said and placed his hand on his shoulder with a friendly, gentle shake. “You’ve done well, Sunshine. Thank you.”

His ears reddened and he grinned faintly, not knowing quite how to respond. He had never received that kind of praise before. It was new and strange and different, not at all like the approval from drill sergeants back on Kamino, or the cheers of support from his brothers. The words were so earnest, so intimate, he squirmed a little at the uncomfortable feeling that the Jedi somehow seemed to peer inside of him.

But still... It was nice. 

Kenobi’s face suddenly fell. Then, there was a loud bang coming from somewhere outside the kitchen. They were quiet for a moment, shared a quick glance, frowning.

Sunshine hesitantly lifted his comm to his mouth. “Frostbite, Carcass. Now is the time you turn up, right? We got movements from the starboard hallway.”

“ _No, that’s not…_ ” Patch was quiet for a few minutes. “ _They’re passing through the brig. It's far below where you are right now._ ”

He shared a concerned look with the General. The Jedi couldn’t hear Patch’s message, but he understood it all the same. 

“We can’t stay here,” Kenobi said, rising from the floor with some struggle. “I will try to distract it while you secure us a path to the officer’s quarters.”

Sunshine blinked. What did the Jedi think he was made of? Beskar?

“You’re gonna distract it? Can you even stand, sir?” He asked incredulously. 

The General chuckled and then winced. “Let’s find out, shall we?” He quipped through clenched teeth. 

The result was far from desirable. The blood loss seemed to take him by surprise and it looked like he was going to be sick at any moment. He swayed slightly and leaned heavily against the kitchen counter. 

“Not good,” Kenobi admitted. He bit his lip, considering his options. Then he faced him. “I’m afraid you’re right. But the short healing trance has taken the edge off. I will be slow, but I can walk.’’

“Good, sir. If I remember correctly, the Officer’s Deck is a few levels from here. I’ll try to inform Patch of our new location and meet the others there.” 

—-

Navigating the dark corridors was slow going. The General, who had insisted be referred to as just Obi-Wan, had also just as adamantly refused to be carried or to lean on Sunshine’s shoulder. He claimed they were far better equipped to deal with unforeseen dangers if both of Sunshine’s hands were free to fire his blaster rifle and not have him weighing him down. He had reluctantly agreed, knowing there was sense to play the role of bodyguard for now. 

However, Obi-Wan’s injuries were far rougher than the rudimentary examination of the Jedi’s body had let on. They had to stop multiple times so he could catch his breath. It seemed that despite his vast intelligence, he still refused help even when he very clearly needed it. It's not like Sunshine had the rank or position to tell a superior officer off, even though he really, really wanted to. 

The path from the mess hall eventually led to the barracks. The simple quarters consisted of rows and rows and rows of bunk beds in various states of disarray. It seemed that when the hangar blew up, the troopers who had been resting here rolled out of their beds and ran into the action. 

It was eerily still now. 

The emergency lights had been knocked out deeper into the hall, enveloping the hall into absolute darkness. He had to resort to lighting the tiny flashlight on his helmet again. He handed the other light to Obi-Wan, who accepted it with no comment. The thin beams illuminated the beds in a ghastly glow. With his own flimsy light, he couldn’t see the General that limped by his side, but he could hear his light footsteps. The barracks packed any sounds tightly, making every movement feel loud and too sharp.

“Stay close to me, General. I don’t want to lose you now,” Sunshine stated, carefully scanning the room. 

“My, how dramatic,” Obi-Wan quipped sardonically. 

“I meant in the darkness, sir. The sleeping quarters are like a labyrinth and these flashlights only go so far.” 

“Of course,” he replied dryly. 

Sunshine rolled his eyes. He fought the urge to be rude. This may be an extraordinary situation, but there’s no reason to break ordinary rank. Even though his superior was being… difficult. He didn’t know Obi-Wan very well, but it seemed like sarcasm and dry wit seemed to be the Jedi’s default state. 

He sighed. Three days into his real deployment in the GAR and he was playing bodyguard to a comedian. 

Obi-Wan suddenly stopped.

“Everything alright, sir?” Sunshine asked. 

“ _Sithspit_. My lightsaber,” Obi-Wan dragged his hand over his face. He sounded tired. “I can’t believe I lost it. It’s priceless.”

“I think I know where it is, sir. But, we’re heading in the opposite direction. Once we rendezvous with Frostbite, I’ll head out to find it.”

Obi-Wan hummed in agreement, not happy, but seemed pleased with the response for now. 

“If blasters don’t work on this thing, then your lightsaber might,” Sunshine pondered while scanning the beds around them. 

“I… wouldn’t be so sure,” Obi-Wan said softly. 

He raised an eyebrow. What was that supposed to mean? 

He decided not to question him further, instead choosing to focus on the path ahead. They still had some way to go. The troopers had left their beds suddenly and quickly, as evidenced by bedsheets and pillows strewn all over the floor. He could hear the sounds coming from the mess hall far behind them. He picked up the pace, just a little. 

“Patch, we spotted movement near the mess hall and we’ve moved away from the agreed rendezvous point. We’re taking a slight detour past Engines and then will head up to you from there.”

“ _Got it. How’s the General?”_

“He’s awake and doing well enough to joke about, sir.”

He heard Obi-Wan scoff from behind. 

“ _That does sound like him,_ ” Patch agreed. _“There is a route just past climate control and up the elevators. It will lead you directly to us, however, there is no power running the elevators right now. We can supply ropes to get you both up the shaft. I’ll reroute Frostbite and Carcass to help you up._ ” 

“Alright. Thanks. Sorry to have you running around on our behalf,” Sunshine apologized. 

“ _Just happy there are more brothers out there. Stay safe._ ”

“Stay safe.”

He switched off the mic and kept walking. It seemed the closer they went to Engines, the less damage he could see. The shockwaves from the multiple blows the hull had taken had loosened pipes and cut off the power, but it looked like a lot of troopers had not been in this area when the monster boarded the ship. The droid may have not gone through this part yet.

“I do _not_ joke about, trooper,” Obi-Wan complained, but he didn’t sound too torn up about it. 

“As you say, sir,” Sunshine replied. 

They kept walking in silence for the next several minutes, keeping an ear out for any sounds that were out of place. 

After what felt like years in the endless corridors of the _Vindication_ , it was refreshing to see a new landscape with more open spaces and machinery, even though it was all colored ominously red from the emergency lights. They found Climate Control - a smaller section in the grand scheme of the star destroyer’s inner workings. Still, it was enormous compared to their small human frames, with thousands of air vent openings leading to it like veins to a heart. 

They stepped across a catwalk that led through the machine room and to the elevators up ahead. Sunshine dared a peek at the chasm below and regretted it immediately. He blinked the vertigo away and tried to ignore the queasy feeling in his empty stomach. 

“Don’t look down,” Obi-Wan said. 

“Thanks for the warning, sir,” Sunshine shuddered. 

The passages split off to the various section of the engines, and a cursory glance to the signposting seemed to indicate the elevators were not too far away. Obi-Wan seemed to know his way around and walked with determination towards one of the many identical doors in the enormous complex. 

There were footsteps on the catwalk from behind. Sunshine stiffened and instinctively reached for his rifle. 

“Huh, now that is a surprise.”

Sunshine and Obi-Wan turned around to see a clone trooper. It looked like he had been through hell. Half of his face had been bandaged and he noticed a splint on his left hand. He carried his sniper rifle on his back and a homemade cloak, stained black with soot and oil. Underneath, Sunshine could see his armor, stained and bloody, just like his own, but far more cracked and broken in multiple places. His bright green eye gleamed in the darkness, giving him a ghostly appearance.

“General Kenobi, Sunshine,” Pluto drawled. “I wish I could say it was a pleasure to see you both, but I hoped you’d be far away from here by now.”


	6. The Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so excited to share this one with you! It's been so fun reading your comments and seeing you enjoy this story! Thank you so much for the wonderful feedback and kudos, it really makes my week!! Anyway, enjoy!

Sunshine couldn’t help his mouth falling agape seeing the familiar face in the enormous engine complex. “How did you - … the explosion. What happened?” he sputtered. “I thought you were dead.”

Pluto grinned and leaned casually against the rail of the catwalk, uncaring of the massive drop just beneath them. “Got a taste of the same luck as you two did, it seems. When the bomb went off I recall something wrapping around me and protecting me from the worst of the blast. Something tells me you had something to do with it, Kenobi.” 

Obi-Wan nodded. “I tried my best,” he answered earnestly. 

“Still, burned the skin off my face and burst an eardrum, but I can’t complain,” Pluto deadpanned and lifted the bandage slightly to show the red, angry, melted skin underneath. 

Obi-Wan didn’t reply, but gave him a meaningful, apologetic look. He really did try to protect them both. 

Pluto simply shrugged and put the bandage back. He walked across the catwalk and patted Sunshine’s shoulder. “I'm glad you made it, Sunny. I couldn’t find you among the rubble and assumed the worst. I’m sorry, kid.”

“Same to you, sir,” Sunshine murmured.

Pluto chuckled. “Then I guess we're even.” 

He adjusted the grip on his rifle and turned back to Obi-Wan. His nonchalant attitude was suddenly gone, replaced with cool-headed professionalism. “I’ve been following the creature, trying to get a read on its patterns, habits, see if I could learn anything.”

“And?” Obi-Wan said, lifting a curious brow.

“It’s indestructible,” he shrugged matter-of-factly. “Your laser sword didn’t work, for one. It was at ground zero of the explosion that almost killed all of us, and it just got a little sooty. It doesn’t sleep, eat, take a shit, or even bat an eye if someone fires a rocket its way. It does nothing but walk through each corridor and room, searching them for survivors, killing them, and then moving on to the next.”

“Wonderful,” Obi-Wan sighed and leaned back against the fence. He didn’t seem exasperated, just tired. He scratched his chin in thought. “I get the sense that the stone in its chest is what protects it from damage. A forcefield of some kind.”

“Like the shields of a destroyer droid?” Sunshine piped up.

“Not quite, but I think it's the same principle: we cut the shields, we cut the clanker,” the sniper nodded. “But striking it is dangerous. I’m not sure if you saw the number it did on the General.”

“I recall,” Obi-Wan dryly remarked. “I didn’t get a close look before it… lashed out. Something about it crept into my mind and threw me off balance. We won’t be able to defeat it without taking the stone out of the equation.”

“How would we do that?” Sunshine pondered. “If the stone makes it bulletproof and wards off close combat, then how do we kill it?”

“We don’t,” Obi-Wan said matter-of-factly. “Our best course of action is to reconvene with Patch and the others to work on a plan to repair the communication servers. If Skywalker’s battalion is still nearby and we can get the word out, we’ll be able to deal with our visitor then.” 

The sniper’s face darkened.

“That is a lost cause.” He crossed his arms. “You’ll all be tracked down and killed before you can get anything sent out. With all due respect, General, neither of you look like you’re in the condition to do much of anything right now. Don’t underestimate this thing. Trust me.”

“Speak for yourself,” Obi-Wan lightly retorted, but not without an undercurrent of seriousness. “It’s clear that we are not equipped to deal with this as we are now. Gathering reinforcements is the wisest course of action from here.”

“I have seen what this thing does, General. Trust me when I say that the longer you stay on this ship, the sooner it will find you and destroy you.”

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course I trust you, but…”

“If you really do, then you’d best get out of here while you still can,” Pluto argued. 

Sunshine stared disbelievingly at the other clone. Was he… directly disobeying an order? 

“There are two escape pods that still work in the starboard gunner station near the hyperdrive engines. They’re the only functioning ones that I’ve found so far in the entire ship. I recommend you use them,” the clone said and started heading down the catwalk and deeper into the complex. 

Before he could make it to the door, Sunshine blocked his path. The older clone narrowed his eyes at him. He bristled in return, but didn’t say anything, though he really wanted to.

“We can’t just abandon ship like this,” Obi-Wan patiently explained. “There are still survivors out there. Our odds of being found by rescue teams, even with a pod’s inbuilt emergency beacon, are incredibly low on this side of the Outer Rim. We will do better if we all band together.”

Pluto scoffed. “I’m not sure where you’ve been the last cycle, but we’ve tried that. Nothing we’ve thrown at that bastard works,” he said. He turned to the Jedi and looked him up and down with a cynical grin. “And it did a real number on you General. No offense, sir, but you’re better off out in a pod than in here.”

“It is true that we’ve had our fair share of damage from this droid,” Obi-Wan slowly admitted. “But, running away from this problem will not solve it. I suggest that you join us. Please.”

Pluto seemed to consider it. He regarded them both with a critical gaze, mouth pursed and arms crossed. 

“No.”

“No?” Sunshine exclaimed. “The General gave you a direct order.”

“I have ears,” Pluto flatly retorted, eyes hard. 

Sunshine balked at the sniper's defiant display. He had never experienced this kind of insubordination before. “But… Are you just going to leave? Where would you even go? You’re an amazing marksman. There are still men out there who need your help.” 

The sniper rolled his eyes. 

“Men, men, men. Yes, there are always men. They produce thousands of us every single day. ” Pluto dismissed. ‘’No one’s gonna miss us.”

“That’s… that’s not true,” Sunshine sputtered. 

Pluto laughed. It was harsh and sad. “Oh, I remember I was naive like you once. You honestly believe those lies the Kaminoans fed us?”

“They wouldn’t lie,” Sunshine insisted, shaking his head. “We’re a great service to the Republic. We’re protecting our democracy and the rights of-…”

“Whose rights? Whose democracy Sunny?”

Sunshine faltered. “I…Well...”

“Have you actually _seen_ the Republic outside of briefings and pictures on the holonet?” Pluto challenged, walking closer and closer to his face. His eyes were cold. The green of his cybernetic iris glowed slightly in the dim light. “Did you ever consider that we’re all given CT numbers so that no one will remember us when we die? That we’re just a statistic in some dusty archive?”

Sunshine bit his lip and looked to the floor. 

“No. No, I haven’t.”

The clone nodded. A sardonic grin spread on his face. “That’s because we were never meant to be a part of the society we protect. That’s not what we were made for. We were made to be disposed of.”

“That’s not true! We’re valued subjects of the Republic,” Sunshine insisted, but his voice wavered. 

With a chill down his back, he realized he just repeated something he was told in class. 

He had never wanted to entertain the thought, the idea of what his place in the world truly was. About what would happen if the war ever ended. It had always been there, in the back of his mind. Ignored. Pluto was dragging it all up to the surface and he enjoyed every second of it.

“We’re property, Sunny. That’s all we are. Owned by people like him,” he growled, looking directly at Obi-Wan. He squared his shoulders and stared him down. “He could tell us to fuck off and die right now, and we’d do it. Isn’t that right, Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan’s expression was still. Unreadable. He returned Pluto’s challenging gaze, stoic and silent. A few very quiet, very uncomfortable seconds passed. The machinery hissed and rumbled around them, drips of condensation counting each second along with his heartbeat. 

Then, something in Obi-Wan’s carefully constructed impassivity failed. He broke his gaze and looked in Sunshine’s direction. His face fell. 

Did he look… ashamed?

“Well, there’s your answer.” Pluto spat and patted Sunshine’s shoulder in mock praise. “Have fun serving your _Jedi_ master, Sunny.”

He picked up his sniper rifle again and began sauntering down the hall. Sunshine was about to run after him when Obi-Wan’s hand touched his shoulder. 

“Don’t,” Obi-Wan said. He looked withdrawn, subdued. “He has made up his mind.”

“He’s disobeying a direct order! If he leaves, he’ll be a deserter, he’ll...”

Obi-Wan’s grip tightened. “It’s okay, Sunshine.”

Sunshine bit the inside of his cheek and watched as the clone sauntered down the corridor. He clenched his fist. 

Anger blossomed in his chest. 

“No. That’s not good enough. There’s no way that is good enough,” Sunshine fumed. 

Before he knew it, without thinking, he ran down after him. He heard Obi-Wan’s protests from behind, but he didn’t care. 

He grabbed Pluto’s shoulder to turn him around. Instead, he saw the swift flurry of arms grabbing him, a boot behind his knee, the world tumbled, and suddenly he was on the floor. When he blinked, he looked up to see the business end of the sniper rifle, trained right on the tip of his nose. 

“Oh, did you have a change of heart, private?” Pluto sneered. “Or did you not hear me right the first time?”

“I'm not going to let you abandon our brothers just because you’re disappointed with your existence,” Sunshine argued, ignoring the blaster trained on his face. 

“Abandon?” Pluto laughed. “Look around you, kid. The entire battalion is gone. There is no more 307th. Look, I’m giving you one last chance. Go back to General Kenobi and get out of here. This place is about to get real frosty, real fast, once I’m done.”

Sunshine paused. He frowned. “What… what do you mean?”

Pluto closed his mouth and glared at him. The sniper had said too much. His eyes flickered from Sunshine on the floor to Obi-Wan. The rifle pulled back from Sunshine’s face, but only slightly.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re going to be all dead anyway.”

“It matters to me. What are you going to do?” Sunshine asked, softer this time. 

Pluto regarded them both, calculating their moves like a hunter sizes up their prey. A long, silent moment passed. With a loud click, he deactivated his rifle. The sound echoed throughout the enormous hall. He took a step back and allowed Sunshine to get back up. 

“Remember the stunt you pulled back there, Sunny? Did you see how that clanker locked up and shut down? The liquid nitrogen was the clue I needed to solve this riddle. That sentient rust bucket is vulnerable against the cold. I reckon it activated in the first place because it was exposed to heat.”

Sunshine nodded tentatively and watched the sniper explain. 

“As I snuck around the ship, I hunted down any canisters of liquid nitrogen that I could find. But there’s not enough to completely freeze a clanker of that size, not for long anyway - as soon as it wears off, it will start moving again. So that means I will have to resort to more… extreme measures.”

Sunshine risked a glance back at Kenobi, who glared at the rogue trooper with a look of recognition. He had a bad feeling about this.

“You’re… you’re going to destroy the ship’s heating reactor,” Obi-Wan said. 

“You’re a lot sharper than the Admiral, I’ll give you that, Kenobi.” Pluto complimented, which didn’t sound at all like a compliment. He then gestured to the machinery around them. “This place is the heart of the _Vindication’s_ entire climate system. All heating, cooling, water, and ventilation passes through this place. However, it’s not a perfect design. If the system is disrupted in a certain way, it will siphon all the heat out to space and unbalance the reactor, cooling this entire place down to a neat little iceberg. I reckon a single blaster bolt in the controlling unit will do the trick.”

“If you let the entire ship freeze, then you’ll die,” Sunshine argued. His hand hovered over the rifle strapped to his back. “We’ll all freeze to death.”

“All the more reason for you and the General to get out of here,” he shrugged and switched the scope on. “But it looks like you’re both being stubborn. If you want to stay, then be my guest.”

“Pluto, please reconsider. There will be a chance to defeat this enemy, but that is not right now, and not in this way. Please, just be patient…” Obi-Wan negotiated, but the clone simply scoffed and turned away. 

He marched to the end of the walkway, almost to where the catwalk had collapsed, and trained his rifle at the panel. It was several feet down, and impossibly small, but they all knew he wouldn’t miss. 

“Patience has never been my thing, General,” he murmured as he looked down the sight. 

Sunshine saw red. He ran at him and attempted to tackle him. Pluto saw it coming and easily sidestepped him. With the safety rails broken off, he nearly tumbled into the chasm below, but the older clone grabbed his collar and threw him backward with ease. Sunshine crashed into the wall behind him. 

Recovering quickly, he grabbed his blaster rifle and aimed. Before he could fire, Pluto was suddenly upon him and grabbed his weapon, and with deft and trained movements, it was disassembled in his hands. Before Sunshine could recover, Pluto jabbed him in the throat. Sunshine collapsed in shock and pain, hacking and coughing from the sudden blow to his windpipe. 

“I told you your extra fancy Kamino classes have nothing on _real_ experience, kid,” Pluto scowled. “I don’t want you to die. Just get the _fuck_ out of my way.”

He went back to the edge of the catwalk. He grabbed the sniper rifle he had placed against the rail and took aim again. He was about to fire when he suddenly yelled in surprise. The barrel of his sniper rifle involuntarily shot upwards, and the bright red bolt hit the ceiling with a resonating clang. Sparks danced downwards and disappeared in a plume of smoke. 

Obi-Wan stumbled forward, arm outstretched. Leaning against the wall in exhaustion and blood loss, he lifted the rifle from Pluto’s grasp with the simple motion of his hand. The blaster hovered in the air for a few seconds until, from the flick of his wrist, it was tossed to the side and clattered loudly at the edge of the catwalk. It teetered on the edge, but didn’t fall down.

Pluto growled in fury. He dashed forward and aimed a fist right at the Jedi’s face. Obi-Wan dodged his blows with practiced ease, but he was not able to evade the knee that cracked into his wounded side. He doubled over with a gasp and fell to his knees. 

Pleased with his handiwork, the sniper briefly watched the two of them writhing on the floor before he turned back to pick up his rifle. 

He didn’t waste any time; he reloaded the blaster and aimed at the enormous machine below them. Then, he fired - the bolt flew across the engine room and hit the panel square in the middle. It sputtered and sparked. The lights above flickered intensely as the enormous machinery groaned and faltered. 

“No,” Sunshine wheezed hoarsely. He staggered to his feet and stumbled over to the rail. He stared at the panel in horror. It was a perfect hit. The machinery sparked and smoked, and he watched as the dials and meters spun and shook from building pressure inside of the reactor. Mist began pouring out of the ventilation shafts around them. Immediately, his breath was visible in front of him. 

“It will probably take a few minutes before this whole sector freezes over. Maybe a couple of hours till the rest of the ship follows suit. There’s a cache of arctic armor and gear a few levels from here. If you insist on staying, then I’d be quick about finding it,” Pluto said and patted Sunshine on the back. He was still recovering from the blow to his throat and could only watch as the sniper strapped his rifle back to his back and sauntered out of the room. 

Pluto paused just by the door and turned around briefly. His expression softened somewhat. 

“Oh and… good luck, kid.”

The door shut, and the sniper was gone.


	7. The Elevator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit shorter for pacing reasons, but I hope you enjoy it all the same!

The engines sputtered and died, cold air seeping through the hundreds of vents around them, filling the room with an ethereal mist. Sunshine stumbled over to Obi-Wan and helped him up from the floor. The Jedi accepted the help, albeit reluctantly at first. 

“That went well,” Obi-Wan stated flatly.

“Oh, shut up,” Sunshine groaned. “... sir.”

Obi-Wan raised a slightly amused eyebrow but said nothing. The machine groaned and the temperature in the room plummeted even further. They both shivered. Sunshine blew warm air into his cupped hands and rubbed them together. His climatized armor took the edge off the cold, but he could tell that staying any longer was going to freeze him to an icicle. 

“How are you holding up, General?”

“Nothing wounded here but my pride, Sunshine,” Obi-Wan grinned while clutching his bloodied midsection. He shook his head in annoyance. “How embarrassing. I’m better than this.” 

“I’m sure you are, General,” Sunshine said and typed in the door code, leaving the frozen chamber behind. The temperature was better in the corridor, but only by a little. 

Only a few seconds later, Sunshine’s comm crackled to life. 

“ _I just picked up a lot of activity right where you are. What’s going on?_ ” Patch asked. 

“It’s a… long story. But we are both okay,” Sunshine hoarsely replied. “One of our brothers has…The heating system is broken. The climate regulator has been damaged, so the ship will begin to lose warmth very soon. We’ll pick up some winter gear on the way to you.”

“ _What? Broken?_ ” Patch was quiet for a few seconds. “ _I... I’m not sure I want to ask what you’ve been up to. But as long as you’re both safe, we can discuss details once you’ve arrived here. Don’t worry about the winter gear. I’ll have some of the men search for it. Just focus on getting the General to safety. Carcass is waiting for you at the elevator shaft right now._ ”

“Got it. What about Frostbite?”

“ _We got a new arrival that needed medical attention. As long as General Kenobi is still walking and talking, we deemed the other trooper to be more pressing_.”

“Yeah,” Sunshine nodded. “We’ll be there soon.”

“ _Don’t be a stranger_ ,” Patch said.

He mentally went through his meager knowledge of the ship. The passage split off in two directions, and he could still make out Pluto’s shadow down one of them. There was nothing he wanted more than to run down that corridor and beat some sense into him, but he had priorities. 

He stifled another shiver and walked down the other corridor, footsteps echoing in the cold metal around them. The elevators would be at the end of the passage, and the officer’s deck wasn’t too far away. They’d make it within the hour, probably even less. 

Obi-Wan was quiet. No doubt because of _that_ conversation. 

Sunshine cringed inwardly. He wasn’t sure how he had allowed himself to be dragged into an argument so laced with thoughts of insurrection. He felt dirty just entertaining the idea of insubordination. 

How had Pluto become a deserter… a _traitor_? Did he harbor such thoughts this whole time, or did the invasion do this to him? Did the hours on his own drive him to madness? 

No. His arguments were fully formed. Rehearsed. The clone had been waiting for a chance to run away, but for just how long was impossible to say.

His thoughts drifted to his CT number. 




_‘33._

It had been drilled into him from birth not to consider - not to even _think_ what that number truly meant. Of course, he never asked... There had been no reason to. He used to find comfort in conformity, enjoying the safety of being one of many, unnoticed and part of a larger machine, working for the betterment of the Republic. Being one number of thousands was only natural.

Still, Pluto’s words shook him. He just didn’t know why, and it concerned him.

_Don’t listen to traitors. They’re meant to disorient you._

He shook his head and kept walking. Focus on the mission. Focus. 

—-

As relieved as they both were seeing the elevators come into view, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but groan when he realized they would have to _climb_ the blasted things. With his aching side, shoulder, and constantly throbbing head, the idea of dragging his body up that shaft for several levels didn’t appeal to him in the slightest. 

Just ahead of him, Sunshine chatted softly over the comm. He seemed to have formed a friendly accord with Patch, the Admiral’s adjutant. It surprised Obi-Wan to see a rookie infantry trooper to get along so well with one of the highest-ranked clone officers on the ship, but this entire disaster was nothing if not a series of unpleasant surprises. Making friends across rank and station was a nice change of pace, he supposed. 

Sunshine checked out of his briefing and turned to him. “Patch said that Carcass is just above us. He’s lowering a rope for us as we speak.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan nodded, voice slightly hoarse from exhaustion. 

Sunshine must’ve noticed his displeasure and quickly reassured him. “He’s attached climbing harnesses to them, so you won’t actually have to climb. I’ll go first and the two of us will drag you up, sir.”

“Well, how considerate of you,” he dryly chuckled and slumped down against the wall with a tired grunt while the trooper began manipulating the door controls. 

The mechanics operating the door seemed to have taken a knock and creaked in protest at the clone’s attempts to override them. The trooper let out a huff of frustration as the panel sparked in his face. 

“Are you okay over there?”

“With the door? It's tricky without an astromech, but I’m managing, sir,” Sunshine reassured him and attacked the locking mechanism with a deeply focused fervor. 

Obi-Wan didn’t ask about the door. He could sense that there was more on the trooper’s mind, but he decided he let it be for now. There would be time to speak with him later. 

Truthfully, Pluto’s insurrection didn’t surprise him. It was just a question of time before clones began truly questioning why they did what they did and served who they served. It was more surprising that not more of them had begun resisting their servitude to the Republic. It was treason and desertion, yes. But still, he could not bring himself to pass judgment. It was not his place. 

He blew warm air into his hands. 

Still, what Pluto did was wrong, regardless of how much he believed it wasn’t. He would face his punishment, but that was not now. Not while they had more pressing issues to deal with.

“Aha,” Sunshine beamed as the doors slid open with a protesting whine. 

They were already in the lower levels of the ship, but there were several floors to go, and in the darkness, the bottom was nowhere to be seen. Sunshine peeked inside and blinked his flashlight up the shaft. They waited for a beat, and then a short series of flashes was given in return. Another moment passed, and a long coil of reinforced rope appeared in the dark shaft, with two climbing harnesses tied to it. 

Sunshine attached it to himself and handed Obi-Wan the other. He stepped to the edge of the shaft, ready to jump in. “Will you be alright, sir?” 

“Don’t wait for me,” he grinned, tying the harness around his legs and waist. It wrapped uncomfortably around the injury, but he ignored it. “Let’s not keep our friend waiting.”

Sunshine looked like he wanted to say more, but then he nodded and stepped into the shaft. With practiced ease, the clone disappeared upwards into the darkness, quickly and quietly. 

Finally alone, Obi-Wan allowed himself to fall against the wall and let out a shuddering breath. The exhaustion and pain were dulling his senses, his judgment, making him lightheaded. Unbalanced.

Pluto’s kick had opened the hole in his side. His hand came away red when he pressed against it. It needed to be closed soon, or else he’d have more problems than the impending sub zero temperatures and a rampaging murder droid. 

How inconvenient. 

He heard the sounds of climbing and saw flashes of the lights from the shaft above. Aside from the sounds of exertion, Sunshine didn’t seem to be having any trouble, in fact, climbing seemed to be a skill that came to the clone naturally. His flashlight was disappearing higher and higher into the utter darkness above. He had been aware the officer’s deck was rather high in the ship’s levels, but climbing as opposed to taking the usual elevators made him realize just how large that distance was. 

Soon, Sunshine’s form disappeared completely, only revealed by a small twinkle of his light and the echoing sounds of his boots stepping against the dirty metal walls.

_Empty, frigid, lonely._

He winced when the low constant headache suddenly spiked. The Force was telling him something… Something was wrong. 

_Empty, frigid, lonely._

_Empty, frigid, lonely._

_Rust and blood._

His head whipped around when he heard a groan of metal against metal in the distance. Footsteps echoing in a wide space, the rattle of the catwalk. Looming closer. Instinctively he reached for the saber that wasn’t there. He missed its weight. 

The droid was here. 

“Why, just my luck,” he breathed and squinted against the migraine that was aggressively forcing itself back in his consciousness. It was a rusted nail, hammering inch by inch with each rumbling footstep of the enormous form. The Force seemed to recoil as if it had touched a white-hot surface. 

He stumbled over to the elevator shaft and looked up. There was no way he could climb it like he was now. He looked back, into the darkness. He could sense the evil, cold presence moving around. It was investigating the space. Searching. 

Obi-Wan stumbled backward, debating if it was worth the risk calling for the troopers to hurry up. He had no idea if the droid had hearing keen enough to tell where he was, or if it had any hearing at all. 

He decided to stay quiet and trust that the clones would finish up soon. He hoped. 

The pathway before him was enveloped in complete darkness, but he could sense it, clear as day. It was just a few corridors from him, marching slowly and with conviction. 

Thoughts and speculations swirled in his mind when the clanging grew closer. Could it sense him just as he did it? Or was it drawn here because of Pluto’s gunshot? 

He gingerly craned himself to peer up the shaft, and there was still no activity to be seen. He took a deep breath, centered himself. He trusted his men. The rope would come back down.

“Though some expediency wouldn’t hurt,” he murmured under his breath.

His calming breathing exercise was interrupted by a crunch of a door being broken just nearby. It seemed much closer than the last sound had been. 

_Blast_.

The migraine pulsed stronger and stronger, seemingly empowered by the creature's looming proximity. Black spots began to fill his vision as the dark presence in the Force brushed against his. Like the feelers of a blind creature, prodding at his Force signature as if it was trying to find an entrance to slink inside of. It was cloying, cold. Oppressive. He swore he could see the flash of red at the end of the passageway. 

Obi-Wan hardly noticed the rope suddenly whip down behind him at first. In a pained, disoriented haze, he fumbled after it and tied it to his harness as securely he could manage. His fingers hardly followed his brain’s commands. They were slick with blood. It made managing the rope all the more difficult. 

He heard the crash of the door behind him just as he tugged on the rope twice, and he felt himself being lifted off his feet. Slowly, too slowly, he was carried upwards and into complete darkness. He heard the faint grunts of the clones up above, dragging him with all their strength. He wanted to boost himself up using the Force, but the dark presence seemed to be drawn to it, and he withdrew before it could take notice. 

Before he knew it, he was several levels high. Peering down, he noticed the long, jagged metal arms peer into the shaft and search the dark space. 

_Rust and blood._

_Rust and blood._

_Rust and blood._

Below him, icy blue eyes flashed in the darkness, peering into the shaft, crane-like arms searching the walls for life signs. The red gem in its chest lit the immediate vicinity, and his head pounded in time with the bright flashes. The scratches of the metallic hands filled the narrow passageway, like the sound of rats scrabbling inside the walls around him. It probed the area around it with a strange kind of interest. It seemed inquisitive, curious. 

By the time its eyes peered upwards, he was dragged out of the shaft and into the corridor above. He let out a breath he didn’t know he held. The sensation of feeling firm ground beneath him again was a blissful experience. 

“Hey, you still with us, sir?” It was Sunshine’s voice. 

He saw another clone. A little older, clean-shaven head with a thick layer of stubble on his chin. Half his face was covered in an intricate tattoo of circuitry. That must be Carcass.

He squinted against the flashlights in his eyes, and they averted them. “Be quiet. The droid is right below us,” he hoarsely reported, and the two immediately straightened. They listened for the heavy footsteps down the elevator shaft in silent anticipation. It scratched the walls and crept around. Then, it disappeared, heading somewhere away from the shaft. 

All three of them let out a collective breath of relief. 

“The quarters are right over here,” Sunshine whispered. “Let’s go.”

Carcass ran ahead with his blaster primed, while Sunshine supported the Jedi as they marched toward the officer’s deck. 


	8. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been looking forward to sharing this one! It's one of the oldest chapters I've written for this and has subsequently gone through the most changes.  
> Thanks again for all of the wonderful comments and the kudos! I'm terrible at replying, but please know that I read them all!!

Unbridled relief filled the room with Sunshine and Obi-Wan’s arrival. 

The Officer’s Deck was way smaller than he expected. In regular circumstances, the room would be decorated a little more generously with some nicer lamps and cushions, but any regard for upper-class decency had since been thrown out of the window. 

Patch was surrounded by piecemeal scrap that had likely belonged to electrical panels and equipment from around the ship, fervently in the process of soldering wires to a strange machine cobbled together from a gutted astromech. Frostbite was cleaning his hands with a wet rag that dripped of pink. Carcass rounded up the rope they had used for the elevator shafts and deposited it in a nearby crate, and then returned to the door to stand guard. A number of bodies laid near the entrance of the room with blankets respectfully draped over their heads. Some of the other injured men were resting on the couch on the far back of the room while the healthy clones distributed warm coats that had been salvaged from around the ship. 

The atmosphere was subdued, but not defeated, and the arrival of the Jedi brightened their spirits.

“Bring him over,” Frostbite said gruffly. He had already repurposed a dining table as a makeshift operating bed, with some basic tools at the ready. Much to Sunshine’s relief, the man had carried a sizable medical kit and a combat med-droid with him.

He observed as the General eased his grip on his shoulder to give the medic a polite, but tired greeting. “For me? You’re too kind. Had I known you’d prepared it so nicely, I would have worn my evening clothes,” Obi-Wan remarked sardonically.

Frostbite squared his broad shoulders and crossed his arms. “With all due respect, sir, you need to sit the fuck down.”

“Alright, alright,” he waved his hand dismissively, and slowly made his way to the table. “I know the drill.”

“It’s never a drill with you, sir.”

Frostbite motioned for Sunshine to leave, even though there weren’t many places to go in the small dining area. There were more tables set up around like the one that had been prepared for Obi-Wan, some with unconscious troopers on them and others empty, bloodied, and covered with grime. 

It didn’t look like any other medics had survived. That left just Frostbite, who seemed to handle it well, but Sunshine wondered if the dark facepaint covered the actual dark circles under his eyes that likely had formed. 

“Sunshine? You’re alive?”

He whipped around to the sound of the voice. It was Kitfox. Much like the other clones in the room, he was looking worse for wear. He was sitting down, hunched in pain. Half his armor had been stripped off, leaving him in his blacks from the waist up. A parka had been draped over his shoulders to protect him from the cold. His eyes were dark and glassy, which stood out from his bloodied face. A large gash had been hastily sewn shut on the top of his forehead. The stitches were puffy and red, likely sewn recently. 

“I did as you asked, sir,” Sunshine reported, only barely letting a hint of relief leak into his professional voice. 

Kitfox peeked behind him where he could see Obi-Wan’s protests of being fussed over and nodded in approval. “You got the General back to us. Good. I knew you weren’t just some shiny, kid…” his sentence got cut short by a wave of pain that washed over him. He bent over, clutching his right arm. 

It was gone from just below the shoulder.

Sunshine’s eyes widened. “Captain…”

“Don’t. Don’t say a word, rookie.” Kitfox hissed. 

“But…“

 _“_ I said _. Don’t. Say. A word_.” He snarled. Sunshine had to resist the urge to shrink. 

A pregnant pause lingered between them. His eyes met Sunshine’s, and his face softened slightly like he had caught himself doing something shameful. And then he spoke, in nearly a whisper: “We can’t afford concern right now. I need you to be focused.”

Sunshine hesitated for a second and then nodded. 

The captain smiled. He seemed tired and weary. He leaned back in his chair while clutching the remnants of his destroyed arm. “We were certain both you and the General had both been vaporized by that second blast. Imagine our surprise when some trooper suddenly reports over half a cycle later that he was carrying the General to safety. I had no idea it was you. I’m happy to see you both alive.”

“Likewise, sir,” Sunshine grinned faintly, and then he felt himself falter, glancing around the room. “But… Is this… Is this all that’s left?”

Kitfox grimaced and sighed. “Yeah. This is it. Unless there are any other miracle cases like you and mister Jedi over there, then this is us.”

Sunshine felt himself grow cold. From nearly a thousand brothers, they had been reduced to less than a dozen, most of them dying, injured, or exhausted. 

How did it come to this?

Kitfox simply shrugged, not seemingly wanting to elaborate. “You just get some rest right now. We have a mission for you, so make sure you get all your things in order before you ship out again.”

“Got it,” Sunshine saluted. 

\---

Sunshine was given some provisions, refilled his canteen, and got some basic painkillers for the bruising down his back that had been gradually growing more annoying for each passing hour. The other soldiers were surprised to see him emptying his backpack, revealing the stuff he had gathered from the medbay and the mess hall on the way there. He had never seen anyone be as excited for a bunch of carrots before, but there was a first for everything, he supposed. 

The smell of caf had never been as wonderful as the cup that was thrust upon him by a grateful trooper. It didn’t pass his notice that they all were old batchers, likely troopers and lower-ranking officers who were seasoned and experienced enough to escape the droid’s clutches. He was the youngest one there. 

A few minutes later, Kitfox called the others around him for a briefing. Frostbite was arguing with Obi-Wan in the other end of the room, but the rest had their attention directed at the captain. He was situated near a holoprojector that had been rigged on top of a dining table. Weapons and various medical equipment were scattered around it. 

“We are dead meat for as long as the comms are down. Patch is working on a fix, but nothing is going to reach General Skywalker or the Core Systems until we set up an emergency comms relay. To top it all off, the gods of fate deemed our situation not to be shitty enough, so it turns out the whole ship is rapidly cooling down. That means we have a time limit.”

He booted up a holo-display showing a 3D projection of the _Vindication_. 

Finally seeing a map of the star destroyer’s status was grim. A pathway of red streaked its way around the internals of the ship, a trail of destruction left behind by the creature. Even if they somehow dragged the ship to dock, there was no way that it would recover from that kind of damage. 

Where there once had been sleek blue lines, they were marred by blotches and lines of red. Whole chunks were chewed out of the ship where the ship’s structure had collapsed. The hangar area was nothing but blaring red as if a giant had bitten a chunk out of it. There was a second void just a little starboard of the hangar where Sunshine recalled the second bomb going off. Strangely, he noted, the entire bridge was gone. When did that happen? 

“If it wasn’t so… feral… It almost feels as if it is actively going after our most vital systems. It’s like it knows the ship’s layout,” Patch pondered. 

He was right. A cursory glance would make it seem like the robot was set on a path to savagely destroy the ship from the inside out, but the patterns showed a sense of… system. Like it had been programmed to hit all of the most vulnerable spots and cut off all possible exits. That fact unnerved Sunshine more than anything else. The _Vindication_ had a unique layout compared to other Venator class units; navigating it without a map was incredibly difficult, as proven by his hours of wandering her halls just prior to this meeting. Did the robot somehow have access to the map feed of the ship?

Sunshine recalled the past events as well as he could, though things got fuzzy after the hangar. “It was armed with two bombs, right? First, it took the hangar to cut off escape routes, then it blew up the R&D sector to take out the General. Then what happened to the bridge?"

The other troopers shuffled uncomfortably. The captain chuckled. “Ah. The bridge.”

“Huh?”

“While you and General Kenobi were gone, we attempted to subdue the clanker and chase it away from the bridge sector. At that point, we knew there were still officers trapped there, so we tried to draw it away from them. We... didn’t know that bastard clanker had one bomb remaining,” he chuckled, shaking his head in shame. “We underestimated it, and it retaliated… hard.” 

He gestured to his arm. There was a beat of silence that was a little too long. Kitfox slapped his thigh with a sigh and leaned back, a lazy grin back on his face. “And if what Patch told me is true, you’re damn lucky you weren’t just a few hallways further up, or you’d both be space debris by now. And now, because of that whole disaster, the bridge is currently floating in space.”

Patch nodded, not looking all too happy. “We didn’t anticipate the structural integrity of the _Vindication_ had been as damaged as it was. Load-bearing pillars had been severed from the first and second explosion, so the third was enough to cut off the ship at the neck, so to speak. We made a… mistake.” He looked quite ashamed, but the captain waved him off.

“A mistake, true, but we did get that bastard off our tails for enough hours to gather more of our forces and regroup. I’d say it was worth the effort,” Kitfox concluded. Not letting the group linger any more on the clearly sore subject, the captain moved on. “It is clear we have been sabotaged. We don’t know by who or how, but this entails zero vacuum shields and a total blackout of signals going in and out of the ship. We believe that someone may have placed a series of charges in the various comm nodes placed around the ship and systematically destroyed them.” He pointed to a series of red spots that ran across the projection. There was very obviously a pattern to it, too regular to be the haphazard destruction of the droid.

“It means that getting any signals out will not work through regular means.” Patch said. But then he grinned with barely contained cadet-like glee. “We are extremely fortunate that I happen to have training in tech dating back to the Old Republic. The Admiral is an expert on the subject and he taught me everything he knows. He told me they used different signals and wavelengths from today’s standards. It's by far more basic, but with my access codes and familiarity with the Venator class software, I am certain we can get the word out to General Skywalker and the rest of the 212th. However, it does leave one issue,” the bridge officer added and crossed his arms. “There is a vital part of my provisional broadcasting relay that is located there. Specifically, at my station on the bridge. Without it, the relay won’t get the correct signals out. I’ve tried to build a new one, but the circuitry is too small and too advanced to build with the available tools before the ship freezes over.”

“That’s where you come in, kid,” the captain said and looked Sunshine directly in the eyes. “You have to climb into the remains of the bridge, locate the part, and bring it back to us. Our lives are counting on it.”

Sunshine nodded. His stomach clenched with nerves. He had a feeling it would come to this. 

“He should not go alone,” Obi-Wan interjected. Everyone turned around to see the Jedi standing just behind them. Somehow the man had abandoned the field medic and snuck up from behind. 

“That was quick,” Patch commented.

“Who said you could be upright?’’ Kitfox snidely remarked. If he could cross his arms in disapproval, he would. Sunshine gawked in horror at the disrespectful way he addressed the General. Frostbite showed up shortly after, looking as sullen as ever, if a little annoyed.

‘’Good to see you too, Kitfox,’’ Obi-Wan retorted with a dry grin, not minding the captain’s mutinous tone. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fighting fit within minutes.”

“Fresh stitches, bandages, and a stim shot,” Frostbite reported, short and simple. 

“Really, Frost? That’s all? Give him baby food while you’re at it,” Kitfox complained. 

Frostbite simply shrugged. “The stim shot I gave is heavy-duty. Meant for soldiers running way past their limits. It will keep him running for a while before he eventually crashes... hard. I’d like to tank him, but judging by our situation, we could use a Jedi out in the field right now.”

No one thought to protest on that point, which Obi-Wan seemed pleased with. He clapped his hands together once and stepped forward. “Now that we are all happy, I want to go over everything we know about our unbidden guest. The more we learn about this creature, the better equipped we are to stop it.”

The rest of the briefing had the troopers share everything they knew about the creature and its habits, weaponry, and last known position. Sunshine told the crew about his experience with it in the medbay. The others looked interested in the anecdote about the medical droid and the model skeleton, how the droid seemed to zero in on anything human-shaped, Obi-Wan in particular. It didn’t really give any of them a better idea of what this monster truly intended to do, but it was a more detailed description than many of the others were able to provide. 

It didn’t pass Sunshine’s notice that the Jedi didn’t mention anything about Pluto and his mission to single-handedly destroy the invader. He simply shared what the sniper had told them, without revealing anything about his existence. He couldn’t tell if it was the General’s way of disowning the trooper or protecting him. 

In the end, there wasn’t all that much the others could share that Sunshine didn’t know already; it was invulnerable, unstoppable, uncaring. 

It certainly didn’t inspire any confidence. 

“If we stay here much longer, chances are the clanker will find us and wipe us out. Sending that emergency signal is our only hope,” Patch concluded. 

Kitfox nodded. “General Kenobi will take Sunshine and spacewalk to the bridge to locate the missing piece of the relay. Another team will have to draw out the bogey and distract it in case it gets too close. Either task will be highly risky.”

“I’ll lead the distraction team,” said Frostbite. 

“Alright. Any orders from Frost are orders from me,” Kitfox declared. “Carcass will scout the ship for a safe airlock for the spacewalk. Patch will stay with the injured.”

“The relay will be ready by the time the missing component arrives,” Patch confidently grinned. 

Obi-Wan nodded, arms crossed. “Good. However, I believe my lightsaber will be vital for completing our mission. It's somewhere in the R&D sector. I want to attempt to locate it before we enter the bridge.”

“Very well, General,” Kitfox nodded. “Just remember, the longer we wait, the colder this place will get. You don’t want to return to a bunch of icicles.”

“It won’t come to that,” Kenobi retorted confidently. It left no room for argument.

“Right,” Patch said before a look of concern crossed his face. “That reminds me, I haven’t seen the Admiral at all since this all went down. The earlier we can determine his status, the better.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “You were both on the bridge when the droid attacked, right?” he asked.

Patch shifted uncomfortably. “Correct, sir. However, as soon as I realized the comms were down I just… had to fix it. So I... disobeyed his order to stay. I ran down here and got trapped after the second explosion. I imagine he’s still up there.”

“I’m glad you did. If not you’d be floating out there with the others,” Kitfox said and Patch gave him a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Obi-Wan seemed pleased with the reply and directed his attention back to the group. 

“One last detail, I don’t believe the General can do the spacewalk dressed as he is now. Unless his magical powers allow him to breathe in space,” Kitfox grinned.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and sighed. “Captain, we’ve been over this before. It’s not magic.”

“The requisitions warehouse is not far from here. I’ll get your zero grav armor for you while you retrieve your laser sword, sir,” said Carcass, speaking for the first time. His voice was rough, like someone who had smoked a lifetime’s worth of death sticks. “We can meet at the exit point here,” he added, pointing to a sealed corridor leading to the break where the ship had split off from the bridge.

“Appreciate it, Carcass,” Kenobi grinned. “Alright, if there’s anything else, speak up now. If not, we move.” 

There were no voices of objection. Just like that, the room exploded with activity. Frostbite gave orders to his medical droid and grabbed a rifle from one of the tables - likely left behind from one of the dead or injured. Carcass disappeared without a trace and Patch was back at his workstation, completely absorbed with the unfinished relay. Kitfox remained by the map, giving orders to the remaining troopers. 

Sunshine picked up some bolt magazines and provisions for the new excursion. He realized he still hadn’t repaired his rifle after Pluto had dismantled it, and located an identical one near one of the bodies rather than spending precious time reassembling it. He whispered a silent prayer of respect to the clone he took it from. 

There was a light tap on his shoulder and he jumped. 

“Whoa there, loth-cat. It's just me,” Kitfox grinned disarmingly. 

“Are all officers supposed to be terrible patients or is it just you and General Kenobi?” Sunshine complained. “Please sit back down, sir.”

“Alright, alright, kid,” Kitfox yielded with a dramatic one-handed shrug. He only half-complied, opting to lean against one of the messy tables that had been converted to an operating surface. It seemed any sanitation concerns had been blasted out the airlock along with the rest of the hangar. “I just wanted to speak with you for a moment.”

“Right,” Sunshine responded. 

Kitfox suddenly dropped his easygoing facade. His head drooped a little lower and he spoke softly, just so that the two of them could hear. “I know we’ve put a big responsibility on you, kid. I… I wish it could’ve been me, heading out, fighting that thing. Well. I’ve already had a go, and that was it for me,” he laughed dismally. 

His jaw tensed and anxiously rubbed the back of his neck, clearly wanting to say something, but stopping himself short. “Just… take care of yourself, okay? You’re a rookie and a shiny, yes - but you’ve already proven yourself to be an even stronger 307th-er than the best of us. Remember that when the General gives you trouble, okay?”

Sunshine stood still, shoulders tense. He didn’t know how to respond to that. He nodded once, lips thin. 

The captain was quiet for a moment. It looked like there was much more he wanted to say. Instead, he straightened with a cocksure grin. “Whatever happens, I got your back.” Kitfox grinned, giving him a light slap on the cheek. “See you on the other side.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Sunshine exclaimed and saluted. Just like that, Kitfox’s easygoing air returned. He sent him an informal finger salute, smiled widely, and sauntered away. 

Sunshine squared his shoulders in determination. He knew that he just saw a side of the captain that very few ever have seen. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he took the words to heart. He silently swore to honor his wishes, no matter what it would take.

Obi-Wan was patiently waiting for him at the door as he finished the last preparations before heading out. Sunshine was perceptive enough to tell that the Jedi had seen his little exchange with the captain, but he said nothing of it. 

He had a small blaster on his hip, which was a strange sight, and he didn’t seem too happy to be equipped with it. 

“You ready?” He asked, limbering up and stretching his shoulder muscles. There was no trace of the constant exhaustion that Sunshine had seen him earlier. That stim shot really worked its magic. 

Sunshine stole one last glance behind. 

Kitfox was protesting and being fussy as he was administered meds from Frostbite’s medical droid. Meanwhile, the medic delivered orders to his small distraction team, a crew of clones about three men strong. Patch was already deep into his work on the relay. 

The atmosphere was strange, filled with anticipation. He swallowed a dry gulp. His nerves were on edge, but he felt strangely at peace. 

This is what he was born for. 

“Ready, sir,” he replied. 

They both ran out of the officer’s mess hall, and into the darkness. 


	9. Vacuum

It didn’t take long before they were inching closer to the place they had fought the droid all those hours ago. With Obi-Wan conscious to lead the way, as well as Kitfox and Patch on the comms, navigating the labyrinthine corridors of the Vindication was a far easier affair. The trek had been uneventful and Sunshine felt somewhat at ease. 

“So uhh… With your magic, can you sense the clanker? Like, can you sense it now?” Sunshine asked. 

Obi-Wan chuckled. “In a way, yes, I can read the _magic_ of living beings. It exists all around us, and of all things.” He then spoke quietly, partially deep in his own thoughts. “As for our guest… there is something strange about it.” 

“Huh.”

Kenobi didn’t elaborate. The two kept walking in silence for a little longer. 

“What does that mean?” Sunshine tentatively asked. 

“I don’t know, friend. I don’t know,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I’m used to being the test dummy for Separatist tech on the regular. This time, I’m not sure what they have done or what they aim to achieve from this. If it even is a Separatist plan, that is.”

Sunshine cocked an eyebrow. “You think it’s someone else?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time other factions have had a little slice of the war. In fact, there are more players in this game than you might think. However, as it currently stands, no one has claimed credit or boarded the ship. No demands, no requests for surrender, no identifying marks, nothing. I’m not even sure if whoever unleashed this thing planned for this to happen.”

That didn’t reassure Sunshine one bit. 

“What worries me is…” Obi-Wan started, but cut himself short. 

“What is it?” Sunshine asked, apprehensively. 

“Nothing,” the General retorted, a little too quickly. “It’s too early to say anything. I’ll tell you when I know for sure.”

Sunshine didn’t know what he had just insinuated, but he knew better than to push the man for answers. He would tell him when he was ready. Or not at all. 

Obi-Wan typed in the clearance code of a locked briefing auditorium and let Sunshine walk into the room ahead of him. It was dark, partially lit by the viewport on the other side of the room. Obi-Wan strode past the auditorium chairs and opened a door just by the podium, which lead to another hallway, identical to all the others. The coast was clear, and local generators seemed to keep the light on in the area. The destruction became more and more apparent the closer they got. 

“It’s called the Force,” Obi-Wan pointedly said. 

“Huh?”

“I know you are just repeating what the captain said earlier, so I’m clarifying it now before you make a fool of yourself to other Jedi you should meet.”

“Oh, you mean your magic?”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yes. The magic. It’s through the Force that I can harness the powers of the world and universe around us.”

Sunshine nodded. He had seen the Jedi use his powers in the clips on the holonet, but they had usually been distorted and unclear. Getting a first-hand explanation of the mystical power was just… amazing. Sunshine's smile widened in wonder. Obi-Wan couldn’t see him through his helmet, which he appreciated. He didn’t want to come off as unprofessional. 

He cleared his throat, feigning disinterest. “So… that’s how you got me out of that hangar? You know, when it…”

“Exploded, yes I recall,” Obi-Wan dryly retorted. 

“How does that work?”

Obi-Wan crossed his arms. “Sunshine, your curiosity is endearing, but I think we should focus on the mission for now.” 

“Oh. Uh. Sorry, sir,” he said sheepishly and straightened, scanning the hallways around them. 

Obi-Wan simply chuckled. “Once we’re out of this mess I can tell you as much as you’d like.”

“Yeah. I’ll hold you to that, sir,” Sunshine grinned. 

They walked in silence. Sunshine had of course been aware of the Force through his training on Kamino. Serving under Jedi command meant that they needed to understand their allies better, how their powers worked and how to best form battle strategies with a Jedi ace up their sleeve. Occasionally General Ti held lectures to cadets about the history of the Order and how it functions. Sunshine had always taken front seats to those lectures.

“We are coming up at the corridor your lightsaber was last seen, sir,” Sunshine said. He couldn’t help some enthusiasm bleeding into his otherwise professional candor. Despite the world falling apart around him, he was comforted by the simplicity of the mission. It was something he was good at. 

“Good,” Kenobi grinned, seemingly sharing the same thoughts as him. 

“ _Be careful around this corridor, Sunny. The hull is compromised from the explosion, but it still has retained pressure. Anything too strong hitting against the walls could launch you both into space_ ,” Kitfox’s voice chimed on the radio and Sunshine relayed it to the Jedi. 

“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” Obi-Wan quipped, and typed the code to open the blast door, and they barely had time to brace themselves for the gust of cold air that blew past them. 

Compromised was an understatement. The whole room was covered in a thin sheet of ice crystals, and their breaths made small crackling sounds as the humidity in their exhales froze upon leaving their mouths. The scene that opened before them was a warped, twisted carcass of the ship’s passageways. The pipes had curled up and contorted out of position, circuitry exposed and frozen over. Metals and plastics had heated up and cooled back down in seconds, presenting them both with an undulating, sparkling landscape, frozen in the pulse from the blast that hit it. 

The bombs had done a number on this ship. 

“I hope your sword doesn’t look as messed up as this place,” Sunshine laughed nervously. 

“It would not be ideal,” he answered, lips thin and looking uncomfortable with the sudden cold. “Let’s make this quick. I didn’t opt for your climatized armor as part of my training, so I’d like to get back to the warmth before I freeze in place here.”

“Right.”

They carefully navigated the narrow corridor. The relatively short walk was treacherous - the durasteel floor made for a slippery path once frozen over and he had to catch himself more than once from sliding into partially melted portions of the floor. It reminded him of walking on the wet plating on the suspended platforms of Kamino, only there was no comforting sound of the ocean breeze nor the smell of the salt in the air. 

“It’s close, I can feel it.”

“Is that what you call a hunch, or can you like… actually feel it? Like in the Force?”

Kenobi ignored him and briefly closed his eyes, though he kept walking at an ordinary pace. Sunshine was tempted to stop him before he would slip and fall on a piece of shrapnel, but he watched as the General navigated the space with apparent ease. Despite the stiffness in his gait, he found all the correct spots to step and ducked his head before a particularly low iron beam that protruded from the wall, and carefully sidestepped an exposed panel, eyes still closed. He walked with purpose and soon stopped by a particularly warped beam that displayed an impressive crown of ice that had frozen horizontally in place.

“Here,” he said, and pinpointed a spot near a pile of debris under the beam and broke some icicles off to reach it easier. “Help me dig.”

Sunshine nodded with an affirming grunt, and carefully made his way through the same path with the grace of a three-legged walker tank. He insisted on lifting the heavier pieces of the collapsed wall and tried not to look too hard at the obvious frozen, half-melted remains of a trooper armor that had been trapped underneath it. 

It didn’t take long before they found the telltale glint of brass and steel under the scorch-marked debris. He debated whether he should grab it or move aside for the Jedi to pick it up when suddenly the weapon lifted from the dust by itself and flew past his head. Surprised, he whipped around to see the lightsaber firmly in Obi-Wan’s hand. 

“Excellent find. Thank you, Sunshine,” Kenobi grinned earnestly. He carefully inspected the hilt, checking for any damage, and then ignited it. 

It was a glorious piece of artistry. Brilliantly blue, it shone brighter than any sun he had seen, and filled the room with a haunting cerulean tone. The heat of the blade reacted to the cold air with a smoky trail of steam as the snow crystals melted upon contact with it. The sight of it filled him with awe. And as soon as it was summoned, it was switched off, plunging the room back into the foreboding, red hue of the emergency lights above.

“Now let’s go, while I can still feel my fingers.”

Sunshine nodded. 

“Package retrieved, we’re on our way to the exit point,” he reported into his comm.

 _“Affirmative. Be careful, kid."_ Kitfox was audibly relieved on the other end. 

Obi-Wan helped him climb a particularly warped piece of floor and they both exited the frigid corridor. He typed in the code to close the blast door and suddenly the freezing gust stopped dead. They began their quiet march back towards the officer’s deck.

“It was a hunch.”

“What?” Sunshine had been so focused on the exits he didn’t register that the Jedi had spoken at first. 

“You asked earlier. I didn’t sense it, but I just had a feeling it was there.”

“Is that a Force thing?”

Obi-Wan considered it for a moment, scratching his chin. 

“Maybe, maybe not. Haven’t you had moments where you just sensed something was going to happen? Or making a correct assumption even when there was no tangible proof?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe.” His face fell. “I… I felt something was wrong just before Brash died. I just... didn’t have time to do anything about it. ” 

He mulled it over for a moment, quietly reliving the moment in his mind’s eye. Obi-Wan said nothing, just shot a sympathetic look his way. He shook it from his mind, redirecting his thoughts to less grim memories. 

“Once I made the correct call of a multiple-choice test that I was clueless about,” he added, with some forced cheer. “It was the one time I hadn’t practiced for a test. When I had the options in front of me, I just closed my eyes and let chance guide my hand… Though I never thought of it as a higher power being a part of it, I just assumed it as my brain telling me the answer without showing the work.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “I suppose that’s a good analogy for how the Force often works. It guides your intuition - if you choose to listen to it.”

“Are you telling me the Force helped me ace my test? That’s cheating,” he joked. 

The General laughed. “It’s not cheating if it is part of the rules to begin with. I just happen to be born with the ability to harness it, and I’ve trained a lifetime to hone my intuition and listen to what the Force has to tell me. And sometimes, it will guide you too."

“I suppose I’ll thank the Force when I finally win the lottery.”

 _“Hold on. Something’s wrong,”_ Kitfox cut in. His tone was uncharacteristically hurried. The chatter in the background stilled and he could hear Patch getting closer to the microphone on the other end.

“What?” Sunshine asked, voice low. Obi-Wan, who had walked a little ahead, was unaware of the interruption. Sunshine tapped his shoulder lightly to alert him. 

_“I can’t… I can’t quite tell,_ ” Patch said. “ _The sonar is going off but I can’t determine its origin. This is… this isn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be further away…“_

A gust of cold wind flew past them, followed by a mighty crunch as the blast doors exploded from behind. Sunshine whipped around to be faced with the hollow thumps of enormous footsteps that bounded towards them. He realized in horror that the cloaked figure was almost upon him. Several metallic hands shot towards him, and he found himself panicking, firing several rounds of blasts uselessly into its barreling figure.

A fist larger than his torso surrounded his entire field of vision. As soon as it arrived, the brilliant blues of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber swept the arm aside, sending the fist crashing into the wall next to him. The creature staggered slightly, before righting itself with stilted motions, and attempted to grab at Obi-Wan’s legs. The arm looked singed from contact, and the dirty, ratty cloak was smoking. Despite being hit by a lightsaber, it looked otherwise undamaged. 

“Still yourself!” Obi-Wan reprimanded, dodging its grabs and attacks with apparent ease. “Any of your missed shots could’ve hit the wall!” He pointed towards the frozen chamber they had just arrived from. With the blast door destroyed, Sunshine realized that one of his errant shots could’ve easily punctured the corridor like a balloon. The frosty mist rolled out from the corridor, enveloping the creature in a haunting fog and blocking his line of sight. The blaster was useless here. 

“The bogey is on us! We’re getting out of here,” Sunshine barked into his comm and didn’t register what Kitfox or Patch said on the other side as he began to bolt towards the next blast door. He rounded the corner and typed the code with trembling fingers. He attempted to wipe the sweat beading down his forehead despite wearing a helmet. He looked up and saw Obi-Wan deflecting heavy blows from the Intruder’s fists. 

“What are you doing?!” he screamed. 

“Covering for you!” Kenobi yelled back.

“Well, I’m covered! Get away from it!”

He held his hand over the door controls, shuddering to think what would happen if he touched it prematurely. His heartbeat grew so loud he could hear nothing else. He watched the enormous figure struggle to keep up with the Jedi’s twists and weaves, answering quick swipes with devastating blows to the floor and walls, leaving dents the size of a munitions crate. It was slower than the human it towered above, but unlike him, it didn’t grow tired. Obi-Wan’s movements began to grow stiff and heavy, and Sunshine bit the inside of his cheek. 

“The idiot,” he muttered under his breath. Then, a stupid idea was born in his head, and he left the blast door controls, running towards the hulking figure.

He skidded just before the robot’s legs, and fired a short spray into its cloak, not minding the futility of it. The creature was still distracted by Kenobi’s swordplay, and he used the opening to grab its signed and ratty cloak and threw it over its head. A brief moment of eye contact with Obi-Wan and the Jedi waved his fist, using the Force to grab onto the fabric and pulling down. It seemed surprised by the sudden tug from behind and it toppled slightly off-balance, the rag forcing the creature down to its knees. 

“Blast door. Now!” Sunshine barked urgently, and the Jedi finally had the sense to agree. 

They both ran.

Sunshine felt like he could cry. Even after going through all this trouble finding the lightsaber, it still wasn’t enough to pierce its armor. He racked his brain for possibilities, anything, anything at all that could give them a fighting chance. He watched the door grow closer and closer, and he could sense the beast stirring behind him. A split second later, he heard the rapid footsteps growing louder and louder right behind him. 

“On my mark, you fire,” Obi-Wan yelled, and Sunshine nodded. He knew exactly what the Jedi wanted him to do. 

They rounded the pillar of the blast door yet again, and Sunshine stood at ready with his rifle. He stared into the black hollow of the droid’s hood down the barrel. It was coming at them fast. 

“This is going to get rough. Hold on to something,” Obi-Wan warned. 

Obi-Wan yelled the command, and he fired. Instead of hitting the creature, he aimed at the flimsy wall structure just behind it, and he watched as it immediately crumpled outwards and the entire piece of steel was torn off its bolts and rivets. The entire chamber now depressurized, the debris began flying and Sunshine had to grab onto the pillar so he wouldn’t get sucked into space. 

Overwhelmed by the enormous pressure, the droid began sliding backward. Sparks flew from the metal feet scraped against it. It spread its long arms and hacked holes into the floor, anchoring itself in place. Like a spider, it clambered slowly towards them, seemingly not minding the rush of escaping oxygen any more than a strong wind. 

Sunshine held onto the pillar for his dear life. He freed one hand to keep firing at the bastard, trying to hit its hands, but the vortex of air ejecting into space rocked him hard, and he watched as each bolt flew wildly off the mark. 

“It’s not letting go,” he yelled.

They were running out of time. Sunshine’s sealed armor would protect him from the vacuum, but Obi-Wan’s didn’t. Either way, with no oxygen supply they’d both be dead in seconds.

Suddenly, Obi-Wan sprang from the pillar, launching himself at the droid. With the jet stream of air that was quickly flowing through the corridor, he practically stood sideways on top of the robot’s chest. With all of its arms occupied in the floorboards, he could enter its close proximity without risking a hit. The red gem in its chest flared, and Obi-Wan winced upon contact with it, but he bit his lip and ignored it. 

“What are you doing?!” Sunshine roared, only barely audible through the torrent of wind that swirled around him. Obi-Wan didn’t respond. He lifted his lightsaber high, and plunged it into the floor, carving a jagged molten line just above the droid’s fists. The floor began to loosen with a shrill creaking noise, and the hulking robed body began sliding backward as the metal began to give way under its weight. It floundered at the sudden loss of firm ground, and Obi-Wan bounced away before he could be grabbed by one of the enormous fists. 

The Jedi began the arduous climb back to the safety of the blast door, the wind against him and oxygen quickly draining from the hole in the back of the corridor. He leaped from support beam to support beam, impossibly defying the current that had begun to slow down - they were going to run out of oxygen. 

Behind him, the loosened floor finally gave way, and the creature plummeted backward and out to the darkness outside. Sunshine grabbed Obi-Wan’s arm as he finally bounded towards the door, visibly exhausted and his lips had started to turn blue. 

The door slid shut with a resounding clang and the endless noise stopped dead. Unbalanced from the change of pressure, Sunshine fell on his ass. He laid on his back for a second, just catching his breath. He watched the ceiling lights swirl in circles around him. 

On wobbly legs, he rose to a standing position. He swayed slightly from dizziness. He hadn’t felt this queasy since the one time he raided an instructor’s spice stash in his cadet days. 

He’d happily kiss Count Dooku’s boots if he never had to do that again. 

Next to him, Obi-Wan crumpled to his arms and knees. He gasped and heaved, and Sunshine sheepishly looked away as he emptied the contents of his stomach on the floor. One could only imagine what the Jedi felt. 

Sunshine slowly stumbled towards his hunched form and reached out an arm. Thankfully, the Jedi didn’t object and he dragged him clumsily to a stand. Obi-Wan’s nose was bleeding slightly, but he wiped it without comment. 

“That, sir... Was stupid.”

“Well,” Obi-Wan swallowed another gulp of air. His eyes were bloodshot. “I’m not going to disagree with you.”

“Are all Jedi as reckless as this?”

“No, you just got stuck with me,” Obi-Wan dismissed and made his way down the corridor and slapped the console of the next blast door. “We need to keep moving, this corridor might be compromised as well.”

But Sunshine couldn’t let go of the issue that easily. A sudden surge of anger flared inside of him and it took a lifetime’s worth of self-control not to slap him right then and there. 

“What were you thinking? You would’ve been dragged into space if I didn’t catch you!” He admonished.

“The creature would’ve followed us. It was the logical thing to do.” The General was calm, despite his very obvious discomfort. He patted his robes, brushing dust off his shoulders and regaining his regal composure, as if the vacuum sickness was forgotten. 

Obi-Wan’s dismissive response did nothing to quell Sunshine’s frustration. 

“The _logical_ thing to do was retreat! What made you think that grandstanding like that was going to solve anything? Who are you trying to impress?”

“It did solve it. The droid is now in space. It will buy us some time. Had I done nothing, it would’ve kept busting down the doors until there would be no doors left to breach.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. He was clearly annoyed, but his voice was level. “I understand you’re trying to protect me, but I’m very capable of looking after myself. I’m trained to make decisions like this, even though you may not like them.”

“But unlike you, I am not the one who is invaluable to the war effort’s success,” Sunshine argued. “You can’t just go and risk your life on every occasion for every rank and file in the GAR.”

Obi-Wan rubbed his temples in irritation. “Sunshine…” he warned, but the clone was too wrapped up in his emotions to notice.

“What if you had failed? What if I couldn’t catch you? What if I missed…”

“ _Know your place,_ _CT-5633,"_ Obi-Wan snapped. 

Sunshine immediately snapped his mouth shut. He straightened, almost standing on attention from pure instinct at the sound of his CT number. The airlock was utterly silent. Just as suddenly as the anger flared in the Jedi’s eyes, it was gone. Obi-Wan didn’t say anything. A strange expression flashed in his eyes, before it was replaced with his usual dispassionate neutrality and he quickly turned to walk away. 

Sunshine watched the General walk to the next blast door in stunned silence. And then he realized with horror that he had been arguing with one of the highest-ranked officers in the army. His stomach plummeted, awash in shame. 

He got too comfortable and he got burned. The General’s shadow grew larger and larger with each step. 

_Know your place, CT-5633. Good soldiers follow orders_. 

“Are you coming?” Kenobi’s voice was distant, muffled. 

‘33 dutifully nodded and marched after him, weapon at the ready. Each step was stilted, too loud. He inspected each room with automatic precision. Reloaded his weapon with hands that didn’t feel like his. 

None of them spoke. Kitfox was somewhere in the back of his consciousness, yelling for him to respond. He didn’t register a word that was said. With a click of a button, he was quiet too.

‘33 stared holes into the Jedi’s back. Though they were both human, the chasm between them was larger than the Kaminoan ocean. 

As they descended deeper and deeper into the heart of the ship, he felt like a spectator of himself. Reflections of himself only showed a dirty white helmet. Faceless. Identical. Hundreds of them floating in space, scattered across the floor. Cracked and broken under collapsed debris. 

And by the day’s passing, about a thousand more troops would replace them all. 

How different was he from a droid?


	10. Cadethood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked at my doc and was baffled to see we are past the halfway mark! That's further than any story I've ever shared before :0  
> Thanks for joining me on this journey so far, and I hope you want to stick around to see this to the end! 
> 
> This was originally one large chapter, but I decided to split it up for pacing reasons, so unfortunately this week's update will be shorter than usual. I hope next week more than makes up for it :)

They marched on in silence. Navigating the endless corridors and abandoned rooms took the better part of an hour, quietly moving about the space and listening out for any changes, anything out of the ordinary. For any indication of the droid coming back. 

The ship’s temperature had dropped even further. Swirls of frost bloomed on every surface. A thin mist began to roll in from the numerous vents around them. Ice had begun to gather inside the workings of the ship, creaking and groaning as liquids began to freeze inside of the drums and pipes around them. It sounded like the ship was moaning, begging for last breaths before she eventually would give in to the cold clutches of death.

His breath fogged his visor, and he vaguely registered Obi-Wan’s plumes of breath just before him. They were both injured, exhausted, starving, and cold. Still, they pressed on.

“-shine. Sunshine, do you hear me? Hey, listen to me,”

‘33 blinked. Had he been out of it? He looked around and didn’t recognize his surroundings. He shook his head.

“Hey, are you back with me?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m here. Sorry, sir.”

Obi-Wan frowned. He folded his arms, looking him up and down with a scrutinizing look. “You’re exhausted. We’ll camp here.”

‘33 blinked. “No need to stop on my accord, sir. We need to complete our mission, sir.”

“Stop sir’ing me, Sunshine. I can’t see your face through that helmet of yours, but I can tell you’re practically a dead clone walking. We rest here.”

“But, the objective…”

“The objective is what I say it is, Sunshine,” Obi-Wan retorted warmly, and as if by demonstration, broke some errant crates open and began rooting through them. He didn’t search for long before he made a triumphant noise. The next moment, he was assaulted by something dark and soft, and it took a quick moment of floundering before he realized it was a blanket. 

Looking around, it seemed the place he found himself in had been a break room of some kind, so finding some provisions and water was a welcome surprise. They found a comfortable spot in the back of the room that had a clear view of the exits. Obi-Wan settled down on the floor, sitting on his knees and closing his eyes. ‘33 opted to sit in one of the recliners, hand never fully moving from his rifle.

He realized with a start that in his daze, he had neglected his comm. At some point after their encounter with the droid, he had switched it off. He didn’t remember when. With a tentative hand, he clicked it back on and was assaulted by an onslaught of indistinct yells from the other side. 

“We’re alive, cap. You can quiet down now, sir,” ‘33 murmured into his comm. 

“ _What the_ fuck _happened_?” The voice was Kitfox, who was absolutely livid. “ _You were gone for ages!_ ”

“Just… Just a little brush with the vacuum of space. We’re good now.” Well, as good as one could be after being nearly depressurized, but the captain didn’t need the details. Obi-Wan gave him a tired thumbs-up. “The General is okay. We got the lightsaber and managed to eject the bogey from the ship. We just got to a… safe location and are taking a quick breather.”

Truthfully, he didn’t know how safe this room was. He had gotten completely lost and didn’t know where it was, but he trusted in Obi-Wan’s guidance that they were on the right track. Kitfox seemed to accept the explanation, though he could feel his frustration radiating from the other side. 

“ _Carcass reported he’s approaching the rendezvous point and estimates arrival in about 20 minutes. I will let him know you’re delayed._ ”

“Affirmative. And… sorry.”

“ _For what?_ ” Kitfox was quieter now. 

“Speak with you later, captain. Signing off,” he said and clicked the button before he had a chance to change his mind. 

“What did he say?” Obi-Wan asked, eyes still closed. He looked strangely serene, despite the blood and dirt that covered his tunics. 

“Carcass is making good time and will arrive at the point soon. He didn’t say if he got your armor or not, but we should probably meet with him as soon as we can.”

Obi-Wan hummed in agreement, expression calm. “I agree. However, we rest first.”

“Yeah.”

The General then fell into complete silence, seemingly ignoring his presence and everything around him. It puzzled ‘33. He could vaguely remember General Ti do something similar when he walked past her office back home. He could only assume that it is what Jedi meant by rest, though he hardly believed sitting on his knees for hours on end would be relaxing, much less restful. He was tempted to try it himself, but his armor was hardly designed for it, so he decided against it. Besides, he would save himself the embarrassment of his legs falling asleep. 

Instead, he opted to simply lean back against a crate and listen to the ship creak and groan around them. He quietly observed as a trickle of condensation above the door slowly began to freeze into a small icicle, still dripping occasionally and growing a little longer for each drop that froze. 

Then, Kenobi opened his eyes, relaxed his stance. He sat cross-legged ahead of him and looked at him seriously. He seemed deep in thought. He was used to the Jedi acting strange, but the prolonged eye contact began to unnerve him. 

“Sunshine. I… I owe you an apology. I spoke out of turn back there. My... emotions got the better of me and I said things I didn't truly mean. I upset you.”

‘33 blinked. What?

“I… was reckless and risked both our lives pulling that stunt. I didn’t think of the consequences, and lashed out when you called me out on it. I was reductive and minimized your worth. For that, you have my deepest apologies.”

'33 stared dumbfounded at Kenobi's earnest face.

Since when did Generals apologize? How was he supposed to respond? There was nothing in the rulebook for this interaction, no training that prepared him for this. He’s not supposed to be put above a non-clone officer, much less a Jedi. But the context stated that he needed to respond. General Kenobi was expecting it. 

Think of something. Think of anything. 

Think.

_Think_.

“You’re… welcome?”

Obi-Wan's eyebrows rose in earnest surprise. The chamber was utterly silent. Nothing filled the air but light puffs of mist from their breath. 

'33 cringed inwardly. Did he say the wrong thing?

Then Obi-Wan laughed. It was a deep, hearty laugh that echoed through the room. Their stealthy position was forgotten, he just kept laughing until Sunshine began to sense a giggle coming from himself. A short spurt of laughter escaped him, and then another, until he found himself in a full-blown fit of unbridled hilarity. The hilarity of his faux pas, the hilarity of him sitting in the same room as the highest decorated member of the Jedi Order, the hilarity of their absolute fucked up situation being trapped in dead space with the constant threat of a murder robot looming over them. Tears streaming from his eyes, he had to stop himself from falling over from giggling. 

They both quieted down and wiped their tears. Then they looked at each other and their ridiculous red faces, and began laughing over again. He hardly felt lucid - just the _attempt_ of processing the amount of stress and grief and pain he had experienced in the span of less than a day, all accumulated to a half-delirious fit of comedy born from his own social cluelessness. Sunshine was sure that they could be heard all over the _Vindication_ , but he didn’t care. 

When the laughing fit ended, he was lying on his back, staring at the dark, drab ceiling. The torrent of emotion that had overcome them exhausted them both, and he felt strangely light when it was over. 

“Seriously though, please stop running headfirst into death traps like that again.”

“No promises,” Obi-Wan quipped. He sounded exhausted too. Then a beat of silence. “But I will try.”

Sunshine knew that was the best he could get out of the stubborn General for now, and accepted the compromise. Obi-Wan rose to his knees again, expression soft. “You have never been to the Republic, right?”

Sunshine grimaced thinking back on Pluto and his crass reminder that he had hardly seen any of the galaxy in his short life. He leaned back on his elbows and shook his head. “I just got here from Kamino. I had once visited a nearby moon for training, but that’s about it.”

Obi-Wan hummed in response. He couldn’t tell what the Jedi thought about his severe lack of familiarity with the Republic he was engineered to serve, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. Compared to him, Obi-Wan seemed impossibly old and wise, though visually they didn’t look too far apart in age. 

Sunshine began to wonder what his life would be like if he truly was as old as he looked. Or, if he truly did look his age.

How strange, to be a cadet… a child, for a quarter of his lifespan. Spending so many years trapped in a body too small and unfinished sounded unbearable to him. He could hardly imagine how annoying it would be to be too short for machinery and equipment for so long. To be so small and vulnerable, and too weak to hold a gun. He shuddered to imagine suffering the awkward adolescent period for nearly a decade, as opposed to his short few years being gangly and miserable. 

He decided a regular human cadethood would be a hassle. 

Still, he had seen holovids of families across the galaxy, living their strange, happy lives in an unstructured, unregulated, but peaceful bliss. The way the birth-givers raised their young and took them to schools where they held pencils and toys and had friends that didn’t look just like them. 

It looked… quaint. 

He stared at the ceiling, picturing the scenes in his mind - one of the holovid scenes he would replay over and over, of a public park in central Coruscant. He wondered how it would look at the sunset, what the grass would sound like, what the smells would be like, visiting a street vendor and browsing their selection of foods from all over the galaxy -

“I want to try ice cream,” he blurted out.

“Huh?” Obi-Wan piped up, clearly lost in his own thoughts as well.

He felt embarrassed for letting his thoughts slip through like that. Such trivial ideas, irrelevant for his lifestyle. Still, he allowed himself to indulge in the idea, if just for a second. “I’ve never tasted it. I’ve seen it on holonet ads. When I’m on shore leave, I want to try it.”

Obi-Wan regarded him earnestly, almost softly. He had never seen a Jedi look that way before. Then again, he had never seen a Jedi fully succumb to a laughing fit, or apologizing to a meaningless grunt. The man was nothing if not full of surprises.

“When we both make it out of here, I’ll treat you. I know just the place. Jedi Council’s treat,” he winked.

They both grinned. When, not if. 

Sunshine reached out a closed fist and not missing a beat, the Jedi bumped it. 

It's a promise. 


End file.
